I Came to Conquer
by Philyra
Summary: AU. Maria never expected to be a trailblazer. She just wanted to play hockey. But here she is, at the highest level of the game, and she has plenty to prove. Part Two of the Get Ready For It series.
1. I am not a word, I am not a line

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the ideas rattling in my head!

* * *

Maria Hill has an affinity for ice – not surprising, as she is born when the temperature registers forty-four degrees below zero. Ice has an air of perfection to it, clear of past victories or losses. For her, it embodies all the possibilities and best of all, a clean slate.

Chicago isn't home to her. The only thing it ever gave her was hockey, though she could never give her full love to the Blackhawks because they're her father's team. Once she hoped hockey could bring them together, but soon realized he only allowed her hockey because it kept her out of his sight. From then on, Maria learns to love hockey for her own sake rather than her father's. She bikes to the nearest ice rink for practice, all of her gear and equipment awkwardly piled and lashed to various parts of the bike. When she's old enough, she talks herself into a job at the rink in a bid for even more ice time as well as spending money for equipment.

The scholarship to Shattuck St. Mary's is one of the best things that can happen to her. She packs her bags for Minnesota and never looks back, except for the summers when she has to take the bus back to Chicago. It's at Shattuck where she really develops her skill, leading the girl's team to National Championships for three straight years. She receives an athletic scholarship to play for the Golden Gophers, and an invitation to join the US women's U18 team. When she graduates from Shattuck, she packs her bags and moves to Minnesota permanently. She more or less expects her father to throw her out and she'd rather beat him to the punch.

The decision to major in business is nothing but deliberate. She wants a job that has a chance of keeping her in the sports world, especially if it's hockey. Maybe she can even work in the NHL. She has a good head for statistics and she believes she'd be an asset to some team's front office. Pepper Potts seems to be doing great things out in New York and she would love to be a part of that organization.

In college, Maria focuses on school, work, and hockey, though not necessarily in that order. The Golden Gophers get to the Frozen Four her freshman year, and they win the whole thing her sophomore year. She doesn't want to think of a time when she can't play as much hockey, but consoles herself with the idea of moving somewhere to work where there's a fairly decent women's league so she can at least play sometimes.

Therefore, it's an utter and complete surprise when she's asked to put her name forward for the NHL draft. "Who is going to pick me?" she asks slowly, wondering if they're talking about a hypothetical situation.

Pepper Potts ( _Pepper Potts!_ ) looks a little surprised at the question. "The Knights, of course."

It has to be one colossal joke, Maria thinks numbly. There's no possible way Pepper Potts, Maya Hansen, and Melinda May are here offering her the chance to play in the NHL. Women don't play in the NHL, it's an unspoken rule. She's learned to shove aside the pain of a dream deferred and accept the next best thing.

Maria's dealt with disappointment her entire life. She's worked hard so she can overcome it and at least take herself down a path that will be satisfying and fulfilling, if not exactly happy.

Now she has the chance to be happy, to do what she loves with some of the best players in the world. She'd be an idiot if she allowed that opportunity to pass her by. She calls Maya that night. "I'll do it." Saying it out loud makes it so much more real. "But I want to finish university. I'll take summer classes so I can finish by next year."

"Whatever you want," Maya assures her, sounding incredibly satisfied. "We'll work it out. Do you have any time to meet tomorrow? We should go over a few things so you know what to expect come the draft."

It seems like the entire North American hockey world loses its collective mind when her name is announced as a draft prospect. Suddenly, everyone's debating if a woman can make it in the NHL and her stats are being (unfavorably) compared to the other draft picks. Maria could tell them it's a pointless exercise because women's stats are measured against different parameters but who asks her? She's more pissed off at the sudden appearance of reporters on campus trying to get a soundbite from just about anyone, but especially her. Maria's beyond grateful for Christine, who's been Skyping her once a week for media training.

"You haven't been reading any of your press, right?" Christine asks with a pinched expression on her face. It's probably Deadspin's fault. Or Don Cherry's.

She can't believe she actually _has_ press, but- "No. The only opinions that matter are my team's." She gets as curious as the next person but why give them the power to affect her?

"Good. Let's keep it that way."

In the end, the draft interviews and the Combine are a breeze. She receives more than a few strange looks and idiotic questions from some of the team representatives, but she already expected it. And she's not entirely surprised when the nickname, "Ice Bitch" is born not long afterwards. "I don't mind it," she tells Christine shortly before the draft, and she really doesn't. It's rather apt, actually.

Christine sends her a sideways look. "Take it from someone who's been called a bitch her entire life: own it, but don't allow it to define you."

Maria nods, even though she's not entirely sure she understands.

But then she has other things to worry about because it's the _draft_. Despite the media training, nothing prepares her for the way she feels when Pepper Potts steps up to the podium and calls her name as the official draft pick (first round, seventh overall) for the New York Knights. Nor is she prepared for the surge of emotion that nearly knocks her off her feet as she tugs the Knights sweater over her practical skirt suit.

She's conscious this is only the first stage. She needs to make it past rookie development and then training camp. Maria knows not to expect any concessions for her sex, not that she would ask for any. She knows full well what she has to prove and how hard she has to work.

Still, it's surprising to see things like a separate shower stall in the facilities at the Knights' practice rink. "Pepper actually had it built when she took over," Betty explains. "Some of the guys prefer a little privacy, especially if they've been badly injured. You'll just have first dibs now."

"The question is if you'd like a curtained-off area of the locker room," Christine adds, looking thoughtful. "It's an option."

Maria is already shaking her head. "No, that would be weird. I'm pretty good at changing under a towel and I prefer wearing Under Armor under my pads anyway. I'll promise not to look if they don't." She's pretty sure she won't, though. Locker rooms are probably one of the least sexy environments in the world.

Rookie camp starts up and Maria doesn't know if she should take offense or be resigned at how surprised everyone is when she not only keeps up with her younger male counterparts but often outperforms them nine times out of ten (of course, the media focuses on the one instance, but that's Christine's problem, not hers). The only saving grace is how none of the Knights' staff is surprised but then again, the team boasts a female head coach, head trainer, and strength and conditioning coach who together have implemented one of the league's most intense training programs.

She can't help but feel satisfied when she makes team training camp. It's not like she expected to be handed anything but she's not going to be demure when she knows she's earned that spot. Thankfully Christine appears to be of the same mind as she coaches Maria one last time before they unleash the media on the team at large before the start of camp. "We don't want you to come off as arrogant, though heaven knows they forgive the men of that particular failing all the time," Christine remarks with a slightly bitter twist of the lips. "But no self-effacing, either. Never apologize for your talent or your accomplishments."

"It's a good thing I won't." Maria smiles sharply. Christine gives her a satisfied nod in return before going off to find Coach May, leaving Maria alone to head onto the track field. She doesn't feel terribly out of place, not in the same white KNIGHTS HOCKEY shirt, navy workout shorts, and navy snapback as the other players and rookies. She makes her way over to where Bobby Drake is already stretching, strategically positioned out of an early morning sun that's a sure herald to a sweltering summer day.

"Hill," Bobby grunts as she takes a spot next to him.

"Drake," she responds. They stretch in companionable silence. Maria appreciates Bobby's maturity, compared to some of his more hyperactive peers. When she's finished, she nods at him before she goes off to find some Gatorade and claim a bottle. There, she's promptly cornered by Thor Odinson and Steve Rogers. As the Knights' two alternate captains, they've already been introduced to the rookies, but that was a brief hi-hello-good-luck-maybe-see-you-later, whereas now anyone's who's made it through has a fairly decent chance of playing with the team in the near future.

Thor is full of stories about Sif Sjölander, who Maria's played against at Worlds. Maria admires Sif, and it's nice to chat to someone who clearly appreciates her just as much as she does.

As for Rogers – well. Steve Rogers is one of the best hockey players in the world, there's no doubt about it. He's an amazing two-way forward, with size and such _speed_ and beautifully soft hands. He has a strategic mind that's responsible for some of the most breathtaking plays she's ever seen and she really, really would love to just talk hockey with him. Simply put, he is one of the reasons she's looked forward to playing with the Knights as a team, beyond the fact that they're offering her the chance to play in the NHL.

Before she can really speak with him though, Carol Danvers takes up the megaphone. She's grinning madly and judging by the looks of trepidation around her, that's probably not a good thing. "Gentlemen – and Maria – welcome to the first day of training camp! I hope you're looking forward to the next few days as much as we are." Coach May and Bobbi are standing next to her, eyes shielded by sunglasses and smirking. "We're going to change things up a little bit. Bobbi's going to divide you up in groups of four to five, and each group is going to take its turn running two miles." Her smile takes on a sharp, knowing edge. "I expect you to finish in twelve minutes."

There are more than a few disgruntled comments from the team, but given the three pairs of shark-like gazes focused on them, they're quiet and kept to a minimum. Maria just wonders if her coach back in Minnesota has been bragging about her 5k time.

By virtue of where's she's standing, Maria ends up in the first group with Thor, Steve, and Sam Wilson. She eyes them up and decides that Steve is probably the one to beat. His conditioning is legendary, but that just makes her more determined to beat him.

The whistle blows and Maria immediately sets a pace that should get her there somewhere between ten and eleven minutes. She and Rogers easily outpace Thor and Sam, who Steve passes with a joking, "On your left." Sam flips him off, much to the amusement of the onlookers. Then it's just the sound of their feet on the track and the occasional shouts of encouragement from the rest of the team. Bobbi calls out the time after their first mile, five thirty-three because Steve has been keeping pace with Maria the entire time. She can't quite work out if he's trying not to show off when it's evident he could go faster.

"Don't hold back on my account," she tells him when they hit a mile and a half.

Steve's mouth quirks up in a little half-grin. "I could say the same for you."

It's a challenge through and through and if he thinks she's not going to rise to it he's dead wrong. Maria fixes him with a glare and ups her pace.

Somewhere behind them, Sam whoops and shouts, "That's it, Hills! Beat his sorry ass!" The rest of the team perk up from the sidelines and, well, there just might be enough of a showboat in Maria to respond to it. She doesn't finish the test at a sprint, but it's a close thing, and she certainly comes ahead of Steve, who increased his pace but not enough to beat her.

"Ten forty-eight, eleven flat," Bobbi calls out over cheers and applause.

"Well, they just showed you the hell up, didn't they boys?" Carol crows. "Looks like you all have some work to do!" Maria raises an eyebrow at Steve, who just smiles and offers her a high-five.

She doesn't know what to make of him.

Later on, Coach puts Maria on the same line as Steve and Bucky Barnes for the first set of drills on the ice. She won't pretend to understand how her mind works, but the Rogers-Wilson-Barnes line is rock solid. It doesn't need any help from Maria, and she's a center anyway. She glances over to where Sam is idling with Trip and Lance Hunter, and his expression is utterly sanguine. His linemates don't look particularly perturbed either.

That, for some reason, really gets to her. She'll be a fucking fantastic winger, if that's what Coach wants. Coulson comes over with the play, a pretty simple pass-shoot-score that the three of them practice a few times on one end of the ice with no opposition. Once he's satisfied, he calls over Thor and Alphonso Mackenzie, and instructs them to run the play again with the d-pair putting on some pressure.

Steve easily takes the pass from Bucky, slides it over to Maria and then – Thor is on her, pushing her out of the shooting lane but it's no problem. Forehand, backhand, and the puck sails over Mike Peterson's glove.

Bucky's laugh is bright and infectious and Maria smiles back automatically, but…it felt easy. Too easy. Her suspicions are proved when they graduate up to playing a full shifts against full shifts – her line against Peter Quill's line, and Clint Barton and Logan Howlett against Thor and Mack. Hardly anyone challenges her when she has the puck aside from Thor and while he's big, Maria's _fast._ Checking is almost nonexistent.

She should be happy when she scores the next two goals, but instead she's _pissed_. The fuckers are going _easy_ on her and it's insulting. Maria knows with absolute certainty the moment she steps foot on NHL ice the opposing teams certainly aren't going to go easy on her. If anything, they're going to be out for her blood. The next time play resumes, Peter comes to cover her but he doesn't even try crowding her against the boards. Maria's vision goes a little red and she pivots around to cross-check him in the chest. "Hit me!" she orders, and all movement ceases both on and off the ice. She yanks her helmet off and turns to face them, chin tilted up defiantly. "Play like a fucking hockey team and hit me like you would anyone else. Stop giving goals up, you're not going me or anyone else any favors."

Steve opens his mouth and Maria steels herself for whatever he's going to say, but Coach May beats him to the punch. "She's right. You're all playing tentative hockey. Now go, run it again!"

"Properly," Coulson adds.

This time, the opposing shift comes at her at full strength and speed. Maria bares her teeth and meets them head-on.

At the end of training camp she returns to Minnesota, satisfied with what awaits her next year.

* * *

"Hey, it's our college girl," Mike greets Maria when she pulls her beat-up truck in front of his Brooklyn brownstone. "That must have been a hell of a drive. You tired?"

She hops out of the truck, shaking her legs out a little. "Not overly," she admits. "Stopping last night helped."

"No kidding, I'm just glad you decided not to do the whole thing in one go." He glances at everything lashed down into the truck bed and whistles. "You weren't lying about not having a lot of stuff. I was going to call Steve and company if you really needed help, they live just a few blocks over."

Maria lifts a shoulder. "Nah, I don't have that much stuff, most of it is equipment." It was easy enough to leave furniture to teammates, or donate it to charity.

She's well aware of how much faith she's putting in this career choice. She's starting over much in the way she did when she went to university, only this time the stakes are much higher. At least she lucked out with this billeting assignment – Mike had contacted her once she finished the whirlwind of finishing her degree, going to Worlds (and finally getting that gold), and winning the Frozen Four one last time, letting her know she didn't need to worry about furnishing anything.

"I remember those days," he says fondly, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Ace doesn't finish hockey camp until this afternoon, and Angie won't be home until dinner. They can't wait to meet you. We haven't had anyone with us since Clint moved out."

"Great." This whole family thing is going to be interesting, but…that's rookie billeting. It's part of the experience and she just has to adjust. She starts hauling bags out and hands a few to Mike and together they begin the process of bringing her stuff in. It's a pretty nice set-up because Maria has essentially the entire garden level to herself, with her own bathroom.

"The TV and game room is down here too." Mike motions at the door standing open at the other end of the hall. "But don't worry, Ace knows not to be too noisy there during the season, so you shouldn't have a problem in the mornings or during pre-game naps."

She manages a small grin. "Sounds good. He seems like a great kid."

Mike's entire face lights up at the compliment. "He is. He's had a lot to deal with, having me as his old man. I'm lucky to have him, Angie, and the team." He nudges her. "You'll see what I mean when everything starts up." He glances around to where everything's been dumped on the floor. "Well, I could let you unpack, but it's lunchtime. I was thinking of ordering some pizza and having it out in the backyard with some beer. You in?"

It actually sounds like heaven. "Definitely," Maria says fervently.

She likes New York already.

* * *

Christine ushers Maria into Pepper's office on the first day of training camp after everyone's trooped to the ice rink after a morning of conditioning. "Maria! Good, there's someone who would like to speak to you," Pepper says brightly, holding out her phone.

Maria looks askance at her boss, feeling very out of place in Pepper's sleek and immaculate office while only wearing her Under Armor. She's also more than a little sweaty, but she doesn't stink yet. No, that will have to wait until she's actually skating. "Hello?"

"Yes, is this Maria?" The voice on the other end is female, simultaneously brisk and warm, and very British. It's also vaguely familiar.

"Yes. Whom am I speaking to?"

She chuckles. "Pepper didn't tell you? Naughty girl. This is Peggy Carter."

Maria's knees go weak and she sags into the chair behind her, sweaty Under Armor be damned. Margaret "Peggy" Carter is one of the greatest goaltenders in hockey history – not even women's hockey, but hockey in general. She more or less put US women's hockey on the map, bringing the team to its first few championships at Worlds. She was one of the most vocal advocates for putting women's hockey on the program at the Olympics, and helped Team USA win gold at Nagano before announcing her retirement.

Most importantly, she's the only woman to have ever played in the NHL. She tended goal for one pre-season exhibition game for the Knights in Madison Square Garden and shut out a Gotham Blades team that later went on to win the Stanley Cup.

"Um," Maria stutters because it's _Peggy Carter._ On the other side of the desk, Pepper busies herself with work, but not before Maria catches sight of her stifled grin.

Peggy just laughs softly. "I've been following your career with great interest, Maria. Congratulations on Worlds, and winning your second Frozen Four. There are many great things ahead of you."

"Thank you." Peggy Carter has been watching her. The mind boggles.

"I was wondering if it might be too presumptuous to give you a few words of advice? I have a limited amount of experience with the NHL-"

As if she would be stupid enough to turn down advice from Peggy Carter. "Anything you could tell me would be welcome," Maria assures her, grateful that her voice isn't squeaking all over the place.

Peggy makes a thoughtful noise on the other end. "Respect and acceptance will come slowly. They may never come at all, though I hope for your sake – and for the sake of the women to come – it will happen. They will form their own opinions of you but you must know your _own_ value, Maria. Do not allow anything else to matter."

Maria swallows. "I understand." Her press has become even more vicious in the lead-up to the pre-season. She hasn't played a single game yet and there are already people howling for her to be let go. She's gone through a number of dicey press situations, and only Christine's coaching and her self-control have gotten her through it.

She knows it's only going to get worse. But somehow, Peggy's words solidify the knowledge Maria has carried with her for years. In the end, the only things she can control are her own actions and her own play. So, she will do her very best and screw what anyone else thinks. She will be the Ice Bitch, so long as the Ice Bitch _wins_.

"You are very lucky, Maria," Peggy says softly and a little wistfully. "You are part of an organization that will put you first. There is no better place to be. You mustn't forget."

Maria glances up to where Pepper is still working. She wouldn't be here if it weren't for Pepper. "I won't."

"Well then. I mustn't keep you from your training. Good luck, Maria. I look forward to seeing you play in the Show."

"Thank you, Ms. Carter-"

Peggy snorts. "Just call me Peggy, Maria. Good-bye."

When she finally hangs up, Pepper is watching her carefully. "My father was the one who came up with the idea of putting Peggy in goal for that exhibition game," she remarks. "Not because he was terribly progressive or anything like that. He simply recognized how popular she was and thought it would be a good publicity move for the team."

Maria tilts her head, unsure of where she's going with this. Pepper continues, staring out into the distance like she's talking to herself. "It worked, of course. There were a number of extremely positive repercussions. He even considered giving her a temporary contract."

"Why didn't he?" Maria imagines how the course of her life would have been different if he had. She probably wouldn't be the first woman in the NHL, for one thing. She can't help but think Peggy Carter would have been better suited for the role than she is.

"Like I said, he wasn't terribly progressive. I'm sure he thought she would wash out eventually, despite her talent." Maria snorts despite herself and Pepper laughs. "Yes, I thought the same thing when I found out. Luckily, I don't have my father's views."

"I'm grateful."

Pepper grins at her, pleased. " _We're_ grateful to have you here, Maria. Please believe me when I say that. Now," she nods towards the door. "You'd better get out onto the ice before Melinda yells at me for keeping you."

She's still a little shell-shocked when she heads down to the locker room. Steve raises an eyebrow at her from across the room. "You all right, Hills?"

"I spoke to Peggy Carter," she replies faintly as she starts putting her gear on.

"You _did_?"

When she turns back around, Steve is staring at her, his eyes wide. "Yes. Why?"

Bucky guffaws loudly. "Stevie here had her poster on his wall when we were kids. She was his first love. He's just jealous."

Maria expects him to refute it, but the tips of his ears go red. Interesting.

The entire locker room dissolves into good-natured ribbing after that. "Rogers, you know she's out of your league, right?"

"Is she the reason why you never pick up?" Lance calls from Maria's other side.

"Nah, he never picks up because he's a paragon of virtue!" Clint chimes in with an exaggerated wink.

The round of giggles that ensues shows what the rest of the team thinks of _that_ particular statement. She watches Steve to see how he reacts and he simply cocks his head with the tiniest of smirks lurking around the corners of his mouth. "That's right," he responds dryly. "I'm an absolute Boy Scout."

The guys find that _hilarious_. Maria's not quite sure she gets the joke, but Coulson and Sitwell are walk through the room and tell them to get on the ice and well, she has other things to think about.

By the end of this training camp, Maria's locked in a spot on the roster – for now. Much of it has to do with her current line, where she's centering Antoine Triplett and Lance. She and Trip had instant chemistry at last year's training camp and Coach May takes full advantage of this time around. Their passes always seem to connect and Trip is very, very good at being where Maria needs him to be in order to set up the play. It's not as easy with Lance. Maria can see how the situation might improve, because every time their passes _did_ connect it was a thing of beauty.

Lance is a little flashy and selfish with the puck. It's understandable enough because the man has incredible hands, but that's not how lines work. That's not how _Maria's_ lines work. Still, she wonders if she should keep her mouth shut even though it goes against everything she's usually done in regards to her team. But it's only the preseason and there's a very real possibility she could be scratched if she takes a step out of line.

Finally, she can't stand it anymore and voices her concern to Mike one day as they're driving back from practice. "We're not that kind of team, Maria. Not anymore, not since Ross was fired. If you have an issue with play, you tell your linemates and you tell the coaches. No one's going to look sideways at you for that. I mean, hell, Coach encourages that kind of communication, all right?"

She considers it carefully. "Hunter does well in the drills. But then the games come around and he gets caught up and forgets." It's cost them a few goods plays and caused more than a few turnovers despite their D's best attempts to keep it in their zone.

"So tell him."

During practice the next day Maria keeps her tone pretty light, and continually reminds Lance, "I'm open." He acknowledges her with a grunt and a nod, but the pattern continues.

Maria buries her frustration until a preseason game against the Red Wings. Lance takes a stupid penalty in the first period and the Red Wings score on the power play. It's only sheer dumb luck that Steve makes a beauty of a shorthanded goal only seconds later, leaving them tied as they go into the first intermission.

Maria waits until Coach May's gone over suggestions for the second period before she leans over to Lance and says in an undertone, "That was a stupid penalty."

He shoots her a look. "Yeah, and? He slashed me, I got angry."

Trip is watching both of them out of the corner of his eye. "He wouldn't have had the opportunity to slash you if you'd passed to me in the first place. I was wide open, Hunter." She shakes her head, pissed off at the wasted opportunity. "You can't rely on Rogers or anyone else to save you if you get sloppy."

"And what do you suggest?" His voice pitches up a bit and several of the guys definitely take notice, but she's not going to be daunted. They have to know she has a voice and she's going to use it, especially when a game's a stake.

"Play better hockey and fucking pass to me or Trip."

He flushes deep red. "Are you saying my game is shit?"

"Frankly, yes, because you're playing selfishly."

"Hills," Steve interrupts. "It's all right, it-"

Maria spares him an irritated glare. "Back off, Rogers, this isn't about you."

His eyebrows draw together. "Hey, this isn't how we deal with problems here-"

"So you admit it's a problem," she interrupts crisply. "Good. And maybe you should deal with it differently. It might actually give you results." She turns her attention back to Lance, who looks like he's trying to drill a hole in her skull through sheer determination. "Pass. The fucking. Puck."

"Fuck you," he spits.

"You're delusional if you think I'm going to stop," She _knows_ how well they can play if he can just start playing smart. They've missed so many opportunities on goal, all they need is one good pass.

"Back onto the ice, everyone," Coach says mildly, coming back into the locker room. Hunter picks up his gear with a snarl and stomps past Maria. Steve gives her a disappointed look and some of the younger guys skitter around her like she's a time bomb, but Trip, Sam, and Bucky give her shoulder a friendly tap with their gloves as they head out. What truly throws Maria, though, is the nod Coach gives her as she walks past.

Maria takes that as her go-ahead and continues to hound Lance both on and off the ice until they're shouting at one another on the bench. "You have to use me out there, I'm wide open," she snipes as they come off yet another unproductive shift.

Her relentless badgering finally gets them results in the third period. Trip strips his guy of the puck and saucers it over to Lance, who streaks up the ice with two defensemen closing in fast. Maria puts in some speed to keep pace and even get ahead, shouting the entire time. He can't possibly make the shot, the goalie's already come out towards him and there are the two d-men to contend with-

But instead of making the shot, Hunter throws one of the nicest passes Maria's ever seen, straight through the two d-men and right on her tape. She taps it in before the goaltender even realizes he's made the pass. The light goes off and Trip grabs her in a hug for the celly, whooping loudly in her ear. Lance avoids the hug altogether, bristling as though they haven't scored a goal. He starts swearing at Maria as soon as she and Trip fall in line with him. "Fuck you,"

"Aw, come on Hunter, you got a point!" Trip cajoles. Maria shrugs. He sends both of them a fulminating look as they sit down and grab for their water bottles. Sitwell ambles over and settles his hands on their shoulders. "Nice play, guys. Coach definitely thinks so, too. Keep it up."

Lance just mutters under his breath. However, a few minutes later, he knocks his shoulder against Maria's. "Fine, I'll pass," he says grudgingly.

She just sends him a sharp smile. "Good. I'll remind you if you don't." He barks out a startled laugh in response and she considers it a win.

After the game, Coach May pulls her aside. "I like what you did with Lance," she says with approval. "Keep doing what you're doing – within reason, of course."

With Coach's approval under her belt, Maria doesn't exactly swing into action, but…there are times when her particular brand of motivation is more effective than Steve's or Thor's. It's not that she shouts them down all the time, because she doesn't. Maria simply doesn't hesitate to get into someone's face and let them know _exactly_ what they're doing wrong and how it needs to be fixed. Lance is just the only one who screams back and after a few incidents, their battles rarely merit any attention anymore. The rest of the guys take her criticism with various levels of acceptance. At least they _listen_.

The Knights win their home opener against the Blades, 3-2. Maria takes two of those goals and is named First Star of the game in front of a welcoming, raucous crowd. She doesn't resist when the team drags her out to celebrate because Mike is fit to burst over how well his rookie is doing, while Trip and Lance want to parade around their star of a linemate.

Two beers and two shots later, she's having a very loud, very earnest discussion with Bucky about passing. "You have to stop dumping the puck!" she shouts at him from over the music. "Controlled zone entries are key against teams that really know how to move the puck."

Barnes exchanges amused glances with Remy. "How do you figure, Hills?" he asks, lazy but interested.

"Puck possession," she replies. "Carrying or passing the puck over the blue line means there's less of a chance of turning it over. NHLers are terrible at it." It's one of the many subtle changes in play she's had to adjust to after playing women's hockey for most of her life.

Steve's eyes narrow and he leans forward. "How?" he demands. Mack groans and drops his head back against the seat because if there's anything Steve can't resist, it's hockey talk.

"You want the stats?" Oh, she'll give him the stats. "Over 65 per cent, compared with 50."

Trip returns to the table carrying new drinks, and sets them down with a horrified look. "Are you seriously debating advanced statistics right now, Hills?"

She glares at him. "Your point?"

"No, none of that," he bellows, pointing at her with a stern look. He reaches over and drags her out of the booth. "We're dancing."

"I don't dance!" she protests.

"You do now!"

Maria remembers dancing, shots, and more dancing with just about every guy on the team. She vaguely remembers Mike steering her towards the door with an affectionate, "Okay rookie, time to get you home!" And she definitely remembers screaming over her shoulder, "I love you guys!" to the rest of the team as they leave.

* * *

The truth is, her feelings in regards to the team haven't really settled. Her relationship with them is complicated when it should be simple – they are her team. They should have each other's backs unconditionally and in many ways this is true. They're meshing well on the ice but she never really doubted that. She's had a little bit of time to see how Nick and Maya work and she understands that they don't necessarily select the _best_ player, but the _right_ one. She wouldn't be here if they didn't think her style of play meshed with the others.

Play is not a problem. Conduct on the ice _is_. The Knights team is full of loyal, overprotective hulks. She understands wanting to protect your teammates but for her the game's never been about physicality, or at least not in the way it's usually couched in men's hockey. It's about coming back and making the goals and that's how Maria prefers it. She sees no benefits in potential injury and she definitely sees no benefit in having the other team score and potentially win while they're racking up penalty minutes.

So no, she's not going to thank the guys for fighting other teams when they target her.

The Knights lose badly to the Wasps during their West Coast road trip. It's quite possibly one of the most ridiculous games Maria's ever seen in her _life._ The team racks up over twenty minutes of penalties between Steve, Bucky, John, and Logan, and at one point there are six Knights in the box with other guys serving out the additional penalties. It's no wonder they lose so miserably, 5-1.

Coach May is so angry she can barely look at them after the game. She stops in the middle of the locker room with her hands on her hips and her lips pressed in a tight line. She tilts her head up to stare into the lights before she finally shakes her head and speaks. "I think you know exactly what you did tonight. It was like watching a bunch of spoiled, angry toddlers on the ice. Fix it." When she leaves, the gunshot-crack of her heels on the concrete make everyone droop and wince. It takes a little while for anyone to move for the showers.

The Wasps don't have separate shower facilities, so Maria has to wait for all the guys to finish showering before she can clean up. She briefly contemplates putting on her gameday suit and shower be damned, but she had to play extra minutes during this game and she knows she smells like week-old sweaty socks. She's not going to subject the guys to that on the plane, no matter how much she thinks some of them deserve it. She waits for a little extra room to clear up before she gets down on the ground and starts doing push-ups. An exercise bike would be better but needs must.

The guys have become used to her post-loss routine and most of them know to leave her alone. Darcy and Mike are the only ones who tend to brave her wrath, but Mike is also understandably pissed and Darcy's back in New York. Steve, however, makes a beeline to her the moment he exits the showers. "Hills," he begins.

"I think you've done enough, Rogers," Maria says meanly, furiously counting through the push-ups. "One minor, one major, then a ten-minute misconduct? Summers had to serve one of _your_ penalties." The ache building up in her arms, shoulders, and abs gives her a vicious kind of pleasure.

"Hills, you know we can't just let them get away with-"

"Yes we _can_ , Rogers, we've discussed this before." Her push-ups done, she gets to her feet slowly and looks him in the eye. "And it's going to stop, right here and right now."

He glares down at her, so very sure and so very self-righteous. "Hills, you can't just let them bully-" He exhales sharply before continuing. "They were calling you the Ice Bitch and they-"

Maria knows. She was there, damn it. The nickname Ice Bitch is not new, though the solutions to remedy that particular condition are. "I _never_ asked you to fight that battle for me, Rogers, or anyone else for that matter."

He makes a wounded noise. "We're team, Hills. We're _family_. We look out for each other." Some of the other guys murmur in agreement and Maria shoves down the feeling that races through her at the word _family_. She's never had it. She's never needed it, and she certainly doesn't need it now.

"Yeah?" Maria's voice rises and finally, this is the kind of fight she's been itching for. "And painting a target on my back, that's looking out for one another, right? Or spending so much time fighting we forget how to play hockey? If that's what being a team is, then count me out."

"What – how can you even _say_ that?" Steve splutters, blue eyes going dark, heavy, and disappointed.

Maria goes cold and hard in response. Anger hums along her nerves so strongly she feels like she's going to vibrate right out of her skin. There are so many things she could say. Volumes about how they'll prove everyone right, that women are a distraction and don't belong in professional sports. How detractors keep saying women will always be lesser and that their abilities will never be on the same level as men. For the sake of every woman who wishes to follow in her footsteps, she has to prove them wrong.

When she finally looks around, most of the team is gathered at the entrance to the showers, dripping wet and gaping. "I just did," she says shortly, then grabs her stuff and stalks off to the shower.

The Knights make it through their road trip and only lose half of their games, which is something. There's a three-day break and Maria for one is going to take advantage of sleeping through at least one of them.

Coach May waves her into the seat beside her as they finally board the plane back to New York. "Don't worry, you don't have to sit next to me the entire time." She smiles wryly. "I just want to chat to you about something."

"Am I in trouble, Coach?" Maria flicks through her performance in the last few games, wondering if she hasn't been performing enough, wonders if her chance is over-

Coach's expression shifts minutely and then she shakes her head. "It has nothing to do with your play, Hill. Don't worry." She pauses for a moment, long enough for Maria to relax back into the seat. "You've settled in with the team pretty well. You don't allow them to treat you any differently, as you should. And you're a leader – different to Steve or Thor, but I think that's a good thing."

Maria tilts her head, unsure of where she's going with this. Coach says she's not in trouble, but it feels like a lecture all the same. "All right."

"But you have to trust them. Give them time to understand." She nods, and with that, the conversation is finished. "Just think about it."

Maria promises she will, and then wanders back to where the rest of the team is sitting – and of course, the only free seat is next to Steve. "Mind if I join you?" she asks warily, planting her feet in an automatic refusal to do anything like shift awkwardly.

"All yours," he replies, all politeness. Maria nods at him and folds herself into the seat, reaching for her sleep mask and headphones even though she'd be watching episodes of _Star Trek_ with Lance or listening in on one of Trip's playlists if she were sitting with them ("You are _not_ allowed to watch game tape," Trip announced with a mulish expression. "Either you watch Lance's nerdy show-" "Hey!" "Or you listen to my epic playlist. Your choice."). This…is not exactly something she wants to deal with right now. Not yet, at least.

Darcy is waiting for her when the plane finally touches down at LaGuardia, even though it's somewhere close to four in the morning. "You're coming with me, Hills!" She's far too chirpy for the hour. "Come on, I know you have a spare set of clothing in there," she says, nodding at Maria's duffel.

"What?"

"I'm kidnapping you. Boss' orders."

"But-" Maria starts. All she wants is her bed. She glances over at Mike, who's leaning against his car door and grinning at them.

"If it's on the boss' orders then you better do it," he tells her and throws his bag in the back. "Just make sure she's on time for practice, Darcy."

She salutes over Maria's protests. "You got it, Mikey!"

Mike shoots her a pained look. "Please don't call me that."

Darcy cheerfully steamrolls Maria all the way back to her apartment and sets her up on a surprisingly comfortable sofa bed with instructions to "sleep late, but not too late!" At that point, Maria's so tired she can barely summon up the strength to get ready for bed, let alone argue. She's out from the moment her head hits the pillow.

The next day, she's dragged out around town, completely at Darcy's mercy. They go shopping and Maria picks up a few gameday suits and dresses, though she's far more excited about actually being able to afford tailored jeans.

Darcy gives her so much crap about the fact that none of the jeans she tries on fit over her ass, regardless of how stretchy they claim to be. "'Oh my god, Becky, look at her butt.'"

Maria rolls her eyes. "Ha ha, you are _so_ original."

"Look, I run social media for a hockey team. I have to talk about butts or the fans are going to riot."

The entire day passes without any mention of the road trip. It's only at dinner when Darcy glances shrewdly across the table and says bluntly, "I heard about your fisticuffs with Steve."

"Fisticuffs?" Maria snorts over her (second) burger. She's probably going to regret it during conditioning tomorrow but she doesn't care. "And who told you?"

"Please, I have informants everywhere." Darcy waves her hand and signals to the waiter for another round of beer. "You wanna talk about it?"

She shrugs. "They were fighting again. You know how it is."

"I do, but you know what I also know? You need to realize you're not alone or what's the point of being on a team?" She leans back in her seat and sighs. "You have to trust them to have your back no matter the battle. You trusted your other teams with this, why not the guys?"

"It's different with them."

Darcy rolls her eyes. "So adjust. What, do you think Christine waves a magic wand and poof, all their transgressions go bye-bye? You know better. It takes time, seminars, and lots of TED Talks. Sometimes additional reading," she adds as an afterthought.

"Is that like what you've been doing with Johnny?" Darcy seems to have made it her mission to make Johnny 'less of a douche.'

"That's just a personal crusade."

Maria makes a face at the flippant answer. "Look, I know what you're doing-"

"Do you?" Darcy interrupts. She purses her lips. "Because from where I'm sitting, it looks like you're just setting them up to disappoint you and that's not fair at all, is it?" She barrels on, completely unperturbed by Maria's lack of response. "It's one thing to play the Ice Bitch on the ice, but off it? Is that who you really are? I mean, it's okay if you are, but…are you?" And with that, she points her beer bottle at Maria and wiggles her eyebrows. "Get your shit together. _Especially_ with Steve."

Maria tips her head down. It's the cherry on top of what everyone's been saying and…well, maybe it's time for her to listen.

She can accept the guys' overprotective instincts because they'll gladly defend any member of the team. How many times has she seen Bucky take out someone for targeting Steve? It doesn't mean she won't yell at them for taking stupid penalties. Her generosity only stretches so far.

As for Steve…well, he's a conundrum. He is deeply competitive and serious about hockey of course, but he also _loves_ it. He has strict ideas about conduct on the ice and takes it personally when the code is broken. That's why he has a Lady Byng, and that's why he's so very quick to jump to the defense of his teammates.

Still, understanding _that_ doesn't mean she understands _him_ , not by any stretch of the imagination. It's a frustrating prospect when she's fairly certain she has a handle on the rest of her teammates. Steve is like no one else she's ever met and it continues to throw her. Luckily, she's a hockey player and if there's anything a hockey player can fall back on when it comes to dealing with teammates, it's chirping. And while Steve has a mischievous streak a mile wide and never passes up on giving his teammates a hard time, he's never really done so with her. He falls back on calm professionalism because _fine_ , she's run the gamut between stiffly formal and screaming blue murder at him. So Maria knows it's entirely up to her to bring their relationship around to something that works, rather than keeping them on the same precarious ledge.

She finds him before practice, jerking her head towards one of the empty staff offices. "Can we talk?" Steve nods and follows her in, leaving the door carefully ajar. It's incredibly old-fashioned but the gesture is oddly charming.

At this point she expects a barrage of questions but he merely waits patiently, eyes intent on her as she gathers her thoughts. His curiosity is a palpable thing, as is his wariness.

"You have to respect me."

His eyes cloud over. It's surprising how much the statement truly hurts him. "I _do_."

Maria sighs. "No. You need to respect that the way you and the guys respond to slights against me is a liability. Not just for me, or women in the NHL, but the team as well." She holds up a hand when he opens his mouth to protest. "I am not saying to stop fighting, though you know as well as I do that our style of play is neither physical nor aggressive."

"What _are_ you saying, then?" He cocks his head to the side, intrigued.

"I'm saying let it go, as much as you can. And that I need the freedom to do what I can to show them that women do belong here." She takes a deep breath because what she's about to say is the difficult part. "But I can't do it alone."

Steve raises an eyebrow, but he doesn't look nearly as wary as before. "No?"

She sends him a wry look. "We're a team. I can't exactly make my point when we're at the bottom of the conference standings, can I?"

That provokes a laugh. "No, not exactly." He takes a few steps until he's standing in front of her, and extends his hand. Maria takes it without hesitation. "I'll do my part."

"And I'll do mine."

"Good." Steve gestures towards the door. "Then let's put it into practice."

It's a start, but Maria has a few extra steps she has to take. She knows she's been a little distant with everyone but her linemates, so she swallows her reticence and takes to tossing around idle observations to whoever she's skating next to at warm-ups. The first time she does it she receives more than a few odd looks, but the guys respond easily enough. Soon she's comfortable enough to chirp them, sliding in wry observations that have them cracking up and bantering back. Steve is always so pleased when she does so (especially when he's the recipient), smiling that thousand-watt smile and it's…different. But it's also _better_.

* * *

The Moms' Trip is a special brand of torture. Maria would opt out of it if she could, but the four-day trip through Florida includes back-to-back games against the Panthers and the Bolts on top of various bonding experiences. The Knights hire out a bigger plane for the occasion, one that can accommodate the team and staff, the mothers, the KTV team, and Darcy.

"It will be all right," Mike reassures her as they make their way towards the plane, armored against the chill of a late winter's morning. The smile doesn't quite reach his eyes, melancholy and more distant than she's used to. He lost his mom to cancer a few years ago and the loss still creeps up on him sometimes. "Someone will adopt you before long."

That's kind of what she's afraid of. "I'm not…good with moms," she admits shortly, the confession yanking itself out of her before she can stop it.

Mike's expression twists the way it does when she says something that saddens him. It usually leads to him dragging her out for quiet drinks at the pub around the corner, or just a beer or two drunk in silence in the kitchen. "You're good with Angie."

"Angie's more like a sister than a mom." The only concession Angie Peterson makes to possibly mothering Maria is to make sure the fridge is always stocked with her favorite brand of protein shake and refusing to let Maria pay her back.

He cracks a smile at that. "Guess you're a little too old for coddling."

"Michael."

The voice is strong and musical, and makes Mike beam. "Sarah," he replies, taking the two proffered hands and kissing the newcomer on the cheeks. "We haven't seen much of you lately."

"Well and you know there's always _someone_ getting hurt in this city," the woman says briskly. Maria takes in the height, the blonde hair scraped back in a bun, and clear, blue eyes. It feels like she should know who-

That piercing gaze slides over to her and the woman steps around Mike and holds out her hands – but this time, to Maria. "Steven!" she booms. " _Why_ haven't you introduced me to this woman yet? Surely I would have met her at the Winter Classic-"

Sarah Rogers. Maria places her hands in hers, more than a little taken aback by the strength of her grip and the callouses on her palms. "Hello," she manages.

Steve edges into her field of vision, looking mildly chagrined. "Ma, you were late taking the train to Metropolis for the game, remember? You missed the family skate-"

She tosses something back at him, something foreign and lilting (Irish Gaelic, Maria's mind helpfully supplies) that makes him flush red and shift awkwardly. "You play beautifully," Sarah tells Maria, switching back to English so quickly it makes her head spin. "Fast. Focused. Calculated. Smart. Pepper was right to draft you."

"Um. Thank you."

"I saw the header you took into the boards last week. Did Betty give you the concussion test?" She squints at Maria, her voice turning stern and so like Betty's that Maria's spine instantly straightens. What is it about doctors and nurses? Or is it moms too? "Because I'll not have any Gods-blessed _ridiculous_ injuries-"

" _Ma_ -" Steve interjects, equal parts affection and despair.

"Aw, come on Mama." Bucky appears out of nowhere and drapes his arm across her shoulders, grinning easily. "It was _one_ time-"

"And it had you acting like a completely different person, did it not, James Buchanan Barnes?" Sarah Rogers aims a flinty look in his direction and digs a pointy elbow directly into his solar plexus. She doesn't so much as twitch as he doubles over, wheezing. Mike snorts and plants one last kiss on Sarah Rogers' cheek before he wanders off. Steve, in the meantime, looks like he's praying to some sort of deity for strength.

So it's up to Maria to salvage the situation. She knows all about Bucky's concussion and had to endure the entire lecture from Betty as she ran her through all the tests. "I passed the concussion tests."

"Did you now?" Sarah says approvingly, while Bucky gives her a thumbs-up. "Now, Pepper told me you received a call from Peggy Carter on your first day. What is she like? You know, I took Steven and James to the exhibition game where she played for the Knights…"

"It's like getting run over by a train, isn't it?" Bucky asks Maria cheerfully after they've boarded the plane. "I have yet to meet anyone like her and once I do-" He winks. "She's the one."

Maria just nods silently, thinking there's no way she's going to make it through the weekend in one piece. Towards the front of the plane, Miles Morales is interviewing some of the moms, no doubt digging for embarrassing stories to share.

She's more than a little surprised when Clint just kind of…slinks into the seat beside her. They haven't spoken very often, though he's been plenty nice when they have. He has a self-deprecating sense of humor she enjoys. "These things are always awkward," he observes neutrally, slouching down and putting his feet into the aisle.

"And?"

"And I'm telling you I get it."

"Do you."

Clint rolls his eyes and jerks his thumb towards his chest, completely unperturbed despite the almost palpable drop in temperature. "Yeah. Orphan."

The head of steam she's building up completely dissipates. "Oh." She honestly hadn't expected that. The vast majority of her teammates came from stable families. Hockey is an expensive sport. Elite players often benefit from having a family that can not only afford the expense but is also willing to support them through the endless slog of practices and games during hockey season. "How," she begins but cuts herself off because she wouldn't want to reply to such a question, either. Thank heavens for Christine, because the most she's ever had to tell the media is that she was very independent and worked very hard to earn the scholarships at Shattuck and Minnesota.

But Clint just shrugs. "Old man was a mean old bastard, but he liked hockey. Same with the foster family. Didn't matter so much when I got to juniors though, since I mostly stayed with my billet family."

Who so happened to be the Drews. Maria knows this because when a teammate has had not one, but two relationships amongst team staff, people talk. The level of professionalism within the Knights organization is astounding, but considering who's at the helm, perhaps not so much. "Oh."

"You?" He asks the question with his eyes closed, but there's a weight of expectation behind the words nonetheless.

Normally Maria would shut this type of inquiry down, and she has. But Clint didn't have to share any of his history with her and – well. She's still trying to become a real part of this team. "My mom died in childbirth. And he didn't care." He'd grown meaner as she'd grown older, but by then she'd more or less removed herself from the equation by going to Shattuck. "So how do you deal with all of this?"

"You just go with it," is the easy reply. "Because it may not be what we're used to, but they're the nicest people in the world. If a little overbearing sometimes," he adds.

She's surprised by how easy it is to take what he says at face value and wonders if Mike said anything to him. The funny part is that she doesn't mind that he did.

Darcy plops down on the seat in front of them, snickering. "Apparently a very young Wade Wilson tried to build a homemade ice rink in the summer and ended up flooding not only his backyard, but their neighbors' too. That's definitely going on Twitter."

The imagery makes Maria snort and Clint crack up. Trust Wade to try and build an ice rink outside in the summer.

They take a win over the Panthers and a loss to the Bolts, and they have a full day's stretch on the beach. Activities include swimming with dolphins and manta rays, jet skiing and windsurfing, and good old lying around on the beach.

Beaches are a bit of a foreign concept to Maria – the closest she's ever come are the ones on Lake Michigan. Still, there's something to be said about lying out on the beach with a cold bottle of beer and her Kindle, though she can't see liking this amount of inactivity for more than two or three days.

Sarah settles on the deck chair beside her, covered from head to toe in long-sleeved caftan, complete with a large, floppy hat. "Irish skin," she says by way of explanation, setting down a truly ridiculous looking mixed drink. "We burn very easily. Steven uses factor 100 when he decides to go out like that." She waves her hand towards the water, where Rogers is windsurfing with Thor.

"Ah." Maria half expects some other comment, but all Sarah does is pull out a paperback and settle back into her chair. She copies her example and goes back for her Kindle.

They spend the rest of the afternoon like that, only taking breaks to grab drink refills and snacks. It's nicer than she expected.

Perhaps the Moms' Trip isn't so bad, after all.

* * *

The Knights make the playoffs for the first time in a very long time, only to get swept by the Mammoths. Maria is nominated for the Calder but loses it to Dick Grayson. She's disappointed, of course, but is not terribly surprised. The league still doesn't quite know what to do with her. She knows she's not the type of player they would have picked to become the face of women in the NHL, but the fact is she's there, and she's not going away anytime soon.

And neither is the concept of women in the NHL. The Knights draft Natasha Romanoff, even though they don't _get_ her. Maria has to face a veritable barrage of questions about the Russian player when training camp starts up for the next season. She answers the questions honestly because of course she wants her on the team, and not just because she'll be an asset on the blue line.

Trip watches Maria carefully as the reporters are cleared away. "Something on your mind, Trip?" she asks mildly, stripping off the last of her pads.

"I know you're disappointed Romanoff's not here, but you know we got you, right?"

Maria squints up at where he's standing beside her stall, looking oddly serious and insecure, which is unexpected. Having Trip around is like carrying around your own personal sun: he's just so _bright_ and steady and confident. He balances out their line and is the perfect counter to her intensity and Lance's showiness. "Um, yes?"

Lance rolls his eyes. "He's trying to ask if we're still good enough for you."

She glances between the two of them – Trip, clearly nervous, and Lance, nonchalant, but no less expectant. She smiles slightly at the sudden rush of affection she feels for both of them. "You're my line. The rest of the guys are my team. You've…grown on me." And as she brushes past them towards the shower, she can't help but add, "Like warts."

The expression on their faces is priceless.

Pepper calls her into her office at the end of training camp. Maria wonders idly if perhaps Peggy Carter has called with more encouraging words, firmly pushing down any possible doubt about her continuing place on this team. She knows how well she performed last year.

Still, she wasn't quite expecting the new jersey with an A on the left shoulder. "I can't," Maria tells Pepper and Coach May. It's not a question of wanting it because she _does_. She's no stranger to leading and she's good at it. "There are so many other guys on the team with experience-"

"And yet none of them have demonstrated the same level of leadership you have," Pepper interrupts gently.

Coach tilts her head thoughtfully. "Remember Game 3?"

Maria scowls because she definitely does. They lost miserably to the Mammoths, 5-1. "Yes."

"You skated up to the bench and slammed your stick into the boards. Then you screamed at them to wake up." She shakes her head slightly, eyes dark with amusement. "How many people hold their teammates accountable for their play and call them out on it in front of everyone and their mother?"

"And mic'ed up, no less," Pepper adds, eyes glimmering with amusement. Maria doesn't know how she can be so sanguine about it because the media reaction had been less than complimentary once the NHL released the compilation. Deadspin had called her a shrieking harpy. Some of the New York beat reporters said she was too emotional. She knows that her conduct could have been better and that she was a much firmer hold on her temper than that – she'd broken her stick on the ice, for crying out loud.

But all she'd been able to focus on at the time was how badly they were playing. They'd allowed turnovers and taken stupid penalties. Their D had been exhausted, especially after penalty kill after penalty kill, which meant no one was protecting Mike the way they should. Meanwhile, scoring chance after scoring chance slipped through their fingers. It was like they'd forgotten how to play hockey.

Coach reaches over and hands Maria the jersey. "You were exactly the type of leader the team needed at that point. They needed someone to point out their mistakes bluntly so that they could recognize them and fix it. I think we won Game Four because of you."

If Game 3 had been a shitshow, Game 4 had been hockey perfection. The Knights had come back from behind with big goals from Sam, Trip, and Bobby before Steve won it for them in OT. Maria might not have scored a goal that night, but she had primary assists on both Trip and Steve's goals.

"Teams need different types of leaders," Pepper remarks, sensing just how close Maria is to caving. "And we think you, Steve, and Thor are exactly the kind of leaders who can take the Knights forward. So please, Maria. _Take the jersey._ "

She brushes her fingers over the neatly stitched A. "I will. Thank you. I won't let you down."

Maria will take this responsibility, not just for her own sake, because she knows that she can be the kind of leader they need. But she's also doing it for the girls and women who are also looking to her as an example.

She never asked to be the first woman in the NHL, but she'll take on that burden and everything it entails.

* * *

 **Please review!**

So, I began writing this and promptly began pulling my hair out because it would not STOP. I'd planned on this being a one-shot but apparently there's a lot to tell. :) Also, the Lady Byng is "awarded to the player who exhibited outstanding sportsmanship and gentlemanly conduct combined with a high standard of playing ability." If Steve Rogers were a hockey player, he'd win the Lady Byng multiple times.

Many thanks to InitialA for talking things out with me (especially in regards to a certain scene), and poptate for being so patient, especially when I hound her about reading drafts.

As always, you can come and talk fic stuff (or whatever you want) with me on tumblr.


	2. I am not a girl that can ever be defined

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the ideas rattling in my head!

* * *

"How are the new shoulder pads working out for you?" Stark asks critically as the team troops into the locker room, eyeing Maria's new gear as though he's daring it to offend him. Jemma is hovering just over his shoulder, holding a spare set of shoulder pads and subtly shifting her weight from foot to foot, nervous because she'd been the one to take point on redesigning the women's hockey gear from scratch.

Maria probably wouldn't have new women's gear, period, if it weren't for Stark's inability to be nothing but the best.

 _"These aren't going to work, Hank," she said, handing over the shoulder pads. "I'll need a smaller size from the men's, probably the same size as John."_

 _"You weren't kidding, huh." Hank shook his head and ran his fingers over where the plastic composite was already beginning to crack. "And this is with the guys pulling their hits, too."_

 _She scowled. "Don't remind me." They were hitting her now, of course, but there were still times when they unconsciously held themselves back. She was trying to break them of the habit by being a bit more vicious herself, but checking didn't come easily to her._

 _"But won't your-" Hank motioned towards her chest, a slight flush settling over his cheeks. "Won't it-"_

 _"Crush my breasts?" Maria rolled her eyes, but kept her voice light because it was fun to tease Hank. He took his job so very seriously. "That's the plight of a female hockey player. We learn to deal. Now, about the other equipment issues-"_

 _"Do you have a problem with my women's gear, Hill?"_

 _Maria looked over her shoulder. Tony Stark lounged against the door to the equipment room, eyes hidden behind his ever-present sunglasses. Diplomacy made the most sense because Stark Hockey provided all the gear for the Knights. On the other hand, she was finally in a position to talk to someone who could make a difference. "Yes," she replied, ignoring Hank's sudden coughing fit. "Most women's hockey gear is nonexistent and the rest of it is shitty."_

 _Before Stark could react, she took the pads from Hank and tossed them over. "Take the shoulder pads. The ones you have are better than Wayne Tech's-'" Maria ignored his snort. "But put them in a situation with a fair amount of contact and they crumble. We barely get away with it in the women's leagues, but that's not going to work in the NHL. Women in the NCAA and higher levels tend to wear men's shoulder pads, but they're obviously not designed with breasts in mind."_

 _She gestured at her pants, which fell just past her knees, not above them as they should. "Hockey pants are made with men's bodies in mind, too. So we usually size up to fit our curves and wear suspenders to keep them up, or try to jam them into ones that are the right length but don't really fit anywhere else."_

 _Finally, she picked up the skates lying on the equipment table. "There are no professional-grade skates for women unless they have monstrous feet and can wear smaller men's sizes. Otherwise, we're stuck wearing-"_

 _"Junior's skates," Stark finished, coming over to inspect them._

 _"Poorer quality," Maria agreed. It was an age-old problem, aired over and over again in women's locker rooms all over the hockey-playing world. She'd been hearing it ever since she was at Shattuck, about how the women's side is never as highly valued as the men's side despite them playing just as well, if not better. How they had to fight to obtain just a fraction of the resources that were freely given to the men. "Not ideal if you're playing at a higher level and can't exactly afford to replace them when they wear out."_

 _Stark removed his sunglasses and stared at her. "And this is a problem for every female player?"_

 _The look she sent him tells him just how dumb it was to even_ ask _. "More often than not."_

 _"And why has no one bothered to tell me about it? Or my team?"_

 _"It never came up. I used my own gear at last year's camps and then I was finishing up in Minnesota." Stark didn't need to know that she hadn't trusted the prospects and other guys not to sabotage her gear. There had been enough tiny-minded little boys at Combine to make her cautious. "Hank and I wanted to see if we could make the equipment work for the coming year."_

 _"But it didn't."_

 _"It didn't," Maria agreed. Then, looking him straight in the eye, she asked, "So what are you going to do about it, Stark?"_

 _Tony Stark was silent for a moment, eyes scanning her, before he burst out laughing. "You," he chortled, pointing at her. "Have come to the right place, Hill. And I don't just mean to me, but to this team. I hope you're ready to do some product testing, because you're about to do plenty of it."_

Stark was true to his word. Maria couldn't even count how many meetings she'd had with Jemma over the last year, meetings involving in-depth discussions of materials and fit and expectations. Then came the prototypes, rigorously tested and replaced until they matched Maria's expectations and Stark Hockey standards.

"These work," she replies, methodically stripping off her gear until she's left in her Under Armor. Stark's presence in the locker room means nothing to her – it's just one more male body in the room. And the guys have become so used to having _her_ around that Jemma's presence isn't even noted, even though she tends to wait for the guys to finish showering before she comes in with Fitz to talk equipment.

"That's it?" Stark asks, mildly disappointed. "They 'work?'" His expression eases when Maria hands him her pads. He's thorough in his check and doesn't even flinch at the smell.

She shrugs, because what else can she say? It's not like she's going to gush about them in front of him. He'll become even more insufferable. "They're comfortable. The fit is fine and we ran checking drills today and nothing came apart. They'll hold up in a game."

Jemma hangs up the spare pads in her stall and picks up the pants. "I know how you feel about these," she laughs before tossing them in the pile with all the guys' pants.

Maria grins. "They fit like a glove."

"Well, I'm glad these meet your approval." Stark hands the pads over to Hank and then peers over his glasses at Maria. "You'll be happy to know we're moving ahead on our deal with the CWHL."

"It's about time." Maria knows most of the women playing there by virtue of having played with or against them in college or at Worlds. Her alternate from Golden Gophers, Akela, plays for the Boston Blades and has been very vocal to Maria about the lack of resources available for the players. In the NCAA one was reasonably certain of having something to fall back on, but not so much in the pro leagues. A partnership with Stark Hockey is a move in the right direction, though long overdue.

Stark snorts. "You don't give an inch, do you?"

"Why should I?" Maria counters, staring him down.

"Point," he concedes with a shrug. "Well, if you're happy, then I'm happy, and that means the CWHL is going to be _very_ happy. Everybody wins. Nice working with you, Hill. Any more problems come up, tell Fitzsimmons or get into contact with me directly." Stark shakes her hand, claps Jemma on the shoulder and says something that has her flushing with pride. As he leaves the room, he directs a wolf-whistle at the guys who are only just starting to stream out of the showers. Clint rolls his eyes and flicks his towel at the millionaire's butt.

"What did he tell you?" Maria asks Jemma curiously. She can't help but think Stark would be a difficult boss, but all the Stark Hockey employees who work with the Knights are obsessed with sports technology, even if they don't necessarily care about the sport itself.

"That I've done a good job," Jemma replies happily. "Fitz and I have been working with the team on skates and sticks, but I've never had this level of responsibility before. And to know the equipment we've worked on is going to the CWHL…today has been a good day." She squeaks a little bit as towels start dropping. "Oh…oh my."

Maria snorts and guides her towards the door, grabbing her own set of towels and a fresh set of clothes. "Stark's right, none of this would have happened without you. Now, let's get you out of here before you really get an eyeful. I'll see you at Pepper's later, all right?"

Jemma waves and scoots out the door, but not without throwing an admiring glance Mack's way. Maria makes sure the door is securely shut before she turns around. "You're all terrible human beings," she announces to the room at large. "I know you've gotten over changing in front of me, but couldn't you have waited until Jemma left?"

"Oops?" Peter offers, though his cheeky grin is the farthest thing from apologetic.

Wade, who has never been particularly concerned about who is around when he's in his birthday suit, looks up. "Simmons was here?"

Maria just shakes her head and heads for her shower. Men.

She takes her sweet time washing up because she doesn't feel like confronting the media today, not after yesterday's media firestorm over her receipt of the A. She sneaks over to Jessica's office to use her blow dryer and ends up talking her into giving her more skating lessons. "There's a year's worth of tape of me in the NHL out there," Maria remarks, frowning. "I think we should change it up."

"You don't want them to have something to get used to?" Jessica taps her fingers on the table, her nails elegantly long and blood red. "News flash: you can already outskate a good portion of the league. But we can draw up a better skating program if you want. It makes sense to take advantage since you've been working with Carol to develop more power in your lower body."

Maria nods. She'd consented to being dragged up to Mike's upstate New York cabin as well as a cruise with the Triplett clan for vacation, but only briefly. Otherwise, she'd remained in the city for the off-season and been subjected to what was arguably one of the most torturous off-season training regimens ever created, courtesy of one Carol Danvers.

"Give me a little time to draw something up, and then we can insert it…before practice? How about strength and conditioning days? Your pick."

"Practice," Maria decides, because she never minds more skating and she'd rather not be wobbling around the ice after lifting weights.

"That's probably best." Jessica makes a face as the door slams in Bobbi's office and Lance's voice floats through the walls. "And that's probably our cue to go. The last time I was here during one of their arguments, I got an earful of…things I'd rather not hear again, frankly."

Maria makes a sympathetic noise and they clear out. The locker room is empty but for Steve, who is holding two cups of coffee. His expression is the same sheepish one he gets when Maria berates him for taking a penalty he knew was dumb. "What've you done, Rogers?" she says suspiciously, taking the proffered cup and slinging her bag over her shoulder.

"Can I explain in the car?" Steve asks, grimacing. "I hope you don't mind too much, but I told Mike to go ahead. I figured you'd want to yell at me somewhere decently private."

She actually does mind, but if she's too peeved she can always tell him to stop somewhere and she'll take the subway home.

They sling their bags into the back of his car – and Maria will never not be amused that Steve Rogers drives a Prius. His well-meaning attempts to raise the car's profile by racking up speeding tickets are legendary amongst the team. Her coffee order is exactly right – black, one spoon of sugar. She wonders if one of the captain's duties is remembering coffee preferences. The funny thing is that he would absolutely roll up to a coffee shop with twenty-plus coffee orders. "So, what have you done that will make me yell at you?"

Steve winces and that sparks her curiosity. He's not the type to say something casually sexist (or sexist at all, for that matter) and she doesn't care when people comment on her playing style. "I might have been overzealous in defending your promotion to the A."

"Not exactly unexpected, Rogers." Maria relaxes back against the seat. A number of reporters and bloggers have already begun speculating about her ability to lead the team when she's on her period. The debate is so blatantly idiotic she refuses to acknowledge it. "You're like that all the time, so how is this any different?"

"Because now they think we're together." He's watching her out of the corner of his eye like he's expecting her to throw her coffee at him. As if she'd do something so predictable. Maria just takes one long, fortifying sip in response, gathering her thoughts.

"I'm frankly surprised it took them so long to _decide_ who I'm sleeping with." Her voice is utterly bland and matter-of-fact. "You just gave them something to latch on to. Don't blame yourself." He's still looking at her with utter confusion, so she sighs and explains. "I'm the only woman on the team, Rogers. I must be sleeping with _someone_ , if not multiple someones, right?" It's hilarious how they never seem to make up their minds about her narrative. Either she's the frigid Ice Bitch, or she's sleeping with half the NHL. Her personal favorite is that she's having a torrid affair with Pepper.

A strangled sound emerges from his throat. "They _say_ that about you?"

Sometimes Maria forgets just how contained the hockey world can be, especially if you're an elite male player. They're taught to focus on one thing for so long, in an institution that is hyper-masculine and so full of prejudice it's a wonder they don't all turn out to be assholes. Even the good ones – and she'd include her team here – sometimes have no idea how it really is. "Do you even have to ask?" She shakes her head, cutting off his furious retort. "Look, they were going to say it anyway, especially with something like the A. Christine's probably doing damage control already and it's easy enough to deny because it's not true."

He's still fuming. It's obvious by the whiteness of his knuckles around the steering wheel. "It's not _right_."

"Of course it's not," Maria snaps back, bristling at his tone. "But you do what you can, and most days it's enough. More girls are playing hockey. Interest in women's leagues is up. Stark is partnering with the CWHL. And we're _winning_."

The car pulls to a stop at a light and Steve turns to her, blue eyes bright and solemn in the midday sun. "And what about the days when it isn't enough?" he asks quietly.

"You work harder the next day." It's such a cliché comparison, but each day is like the fresh, sparkling ice left in a Zamboni's wake. There is no use in dwelling on the past, not when the future is something entirely of one's own making.

Besides, she is _lucky._ She gets to do something she loves every single day and is paid heinous amounts to do so. For that reason alone, she can put up with all the bullshit.

Steve's expression is odd. It's as though he's seeing her for the first time and he's not sure what to make of what he's found.

And Maria is not quite sure she wants to deal with that, so she turns her head away to look out the window once more. "Light's green," she comments.

He chuckles softly. "You're something else, Hill."

"So I've been told." But she is smiling as she finishes her coffee.

* * *

The Knights arrive back in New York after one of their more brutal slogs and Maria has never been more grateful to have half a week off. As per usual, she spends much of the first day sleeping. The next day she allows Angie to drag her out for a spa day after morning skate. They're just finishing their nails (Maria's are done in Knights red and blue, naturally) when Sue calls.

"Hello Maria, I'm sorry to call you on one of your off days." Sue's voice is pleasant, professional, and gives nothing away. "I was wondering if you had some free time tonight and would be able to come over to Pepper's place."

The innocuous statement has alarm bells going off in Maria's head. "Is everything all right, Sue?" Angie's eyebrows shoot up and she turns her head, expression inquiring.

"You have nothing to worry about, Maria. Let's just call this a…pleasant surprise."

Somehow, that does absolutely nothing to assuage the sudden unease in her belly. Sue's her agent, one of the best in the country. She knows how to spin things to her advantage. "All right. I'm at the spa right now with Angie, but I can ask her to drop me off afterwards."

"Are you?" Sue sounds genuinely pleased at the prospect. "I'm glad you're taking some time to pamper yourself, Maria. I'll see you at Pepper's later."

Whatever Maria's expecting, it almost certainly is not the sight of Natasha Romanoff, curled on a sectional and chatting to Pepper and Sue over a mug of tea.

She recognizes her instantly, of course. Maria's seen plenty of footage and even though it's been a few years, she remembers playing against her at Worlds. "You're here," she says blankly. "But Dynamo-" Nick told her all about the problems with Natasha's team, how they refused to let her go even after her contract with them expired and how they strong-armed her into signing another one. This wasn't even counting the pressure from her own government to make her stay.

Natasha uncoils herself on the couch and comes over. She's much shorter than Maria expected, especially given her presence on the ice. You'd think she was as big as Thor, the way she plays. "Dynamo forced me to sign another contract, yes," she agrees. "I am no longer honoring it."

"That's going to have consequences," Maria mutters, surprised. She wonders if Pepper can be sued for taking Romanoff on when she's still technically signed to Dynamo.

" _Everything_ has consequences," Natasha replies, her expression settling into something coolly implacable. "They should have let me go, otherwise this wouldn't have happened."

"This, meaning?" Maria asks, glancing over at Pepper. The situation is so far beyond anything she could have expected that she doesn't quite know how to react. Blind optimism has never been her thing but she _wants_ other women to join her in the NHL and it's been so disappointing to be alone these last two and a half years. This time she wants to be sure.

"Natasha smuggled herself out of Estonia during a trip with her teammates," Sue laughs, drawing Maria's attention. "I've taken Natasha on as another client, Maria. Once we have her visa and new contract sorted out, she'll be playing with the team."

Maria focuses back on Natasha. If Sue's taken her on then she's a sure thing. "Yeah?"

"I thought I'd be the first woman in the NHL," she jokes lightly, but there's a hint of uncertainty in her eyes, as though she's suddenly unsure of her welcome. "Playing with the first is the next best thing."

For Maria, this _is_ the best thing. Now, she's no longer alone. She's not a fluke. Natasha is someone who can share the burden, someone who will understand exactly what it's like to be a woman playing in the NHL.

Honestly, she'd hug her if it wasn't so out of character. So Maria just holds out her hand and grins. "Welcome to the Knights. I'm glad you're finally here."

Natasha relaxes, her lips curving up as she shakes her hand. "I'm glad to be here." She turns Maria's hand over and examines her nails. "Nice manicure."

"You should come with me the next time I go with Angie. We'll do it for your first game." Maria might not be especially girly (not that there's anything wrong with it), but she does like reminding the world she is, in fact, a woman.

"I would like that."

When Walters and Murdock finally give the all-clear, Maria directs Mike to Pepper's place for a "special delivery" on their way to practice, ignoring his bitching about having to detour through Manhattan on the way to Tarrytown. She enjoys his look of total astonishment when Natasha hops into the backseat with her gear bag. "Maria, there's a Russian in my car," he comments offhandedly, pulling back into traffic.

"So it would seem," Maria replies, equally neutral. "Mike, Natasha, Natasha, Mike."

"I'm going to be your new best friend," Nat announces solemnly, eyes dancing.

"No kidding," Mike laughs. His eyes are sparkling as he glances up. He, like everyone else on the Knights, has seen Natasha's game tape. "I'm looking forward to seeing what you can do. Oh, and you're having dinner with us tonight."

Nat blinks slowly, the only sign that she's a little nonplussed. "All right."

They practically smuggle Nat into Coach May's office because they want to keep the surprise just a little while longer. It works by virtue of the fact that Maria and Mike prefer to get to practice early. They have time to gear up and run a few shooting drills before Coulson calls them back to the locker room, where the rest of the team is assembled. The coaching staff rarely talks to them before practice, preferring to talk to them on the ice or when they're dissecting play in video review, so this is a definite break in routine and everyone is curious.

Coach nods at Maria and Mike as they troop into the locker room behind Coulson. Maria removes her helmet and settles into her stall. Trip nudges her gently with his elbow. "Hey Hills, any idea what's going on?"

"Maybe," she says with a small grin, and catches Steve's eye from across the room. He quirks an eyebrow and she shakes her head minutely in response. He makes a face.

Coach clears her throat and all the muttering stops. "I'll keep this brief. Needless to say, the Knights have made a much anticipated and much needed acquisition, and I expect all of you to give her a warm welcome."

At the same time, Hank finishes fussing over the empty stall beside Clint, revealing Nat's nameplate just at Nat herself appears behind Coach, already fitted out in practice gear.

Jaws drop around the locker room. Silence reigns and Nat's expression slides from still to stony. Maria thinks she's going to have to get up and shake her hand or something ridiculous when Clint whistles from the back and drawls, "Shit, Romanoff, took you long enough," and just like that, the tension dissipates.

In the end, she still has to play the welcoming committee alongside Steve and Thor. "You knew about this," Steve remarks in an undertone as Thor escorts Natasha off to the back wall of the locker room, where all the defensemen are seated.

"Of course I knew, but I couldn't say anything until they'd sorted out most of her details," she admits. She does feel marginally guilty about keeping it a secret from him and Thor, but- "Pepper made me promise."

Steve, for his part, doesn't seem peeved at all. There's an interesting glint in his eye as he says, "You two are going to be trouble."

"Oh? Two women in the locker room too much for you, Rogers?"

Steve rolls his eyes and nudges her in the shoulder. "That's not what I mean and you know it, Hills. You're just going to be trouble – both on the ice, which is good for us, and off the ice, which…I'll be reserving judgment." But he grins the whole time as he goes back to his stall to finish taping up his stick.

The thing is, Steve's not _wrong_. Nat has a solid first few games, which causes Coach to bump up her minutes. More often than not, those minutes coincide with when Maria's line is on the ice. Nat, like Clint, is very good at knocking the puck out of the air when the opposing team tries to dump it and change shifts. This gives the Knights more opportunities to go on the offensive and increase their scoring chances.

Maria's played with good defensemen before – hell, she's played with great _female_ defensemen for most of her life. None of them are like Natasha. Her skating is some of the best in the league, moving flawlessly from skating forwards to backwards without losing any momentum. She moves through other defenders in the neutral zone as though they're standing still. Her sense of timing is unbelievable, whether it comes to joining the attack at just the right moment, or knowing _exactly_ when to make the perfect pass.

The score is currently tied on an away game in Buffalo, 2-2 with only twenty seconds to overtime. Mike catches an easy pass behind the goal and ferries it over to Nat, who makes her way to the edge of the Knights' defensive zone. Maria and Lance are just skating the edge of the offensive zone, constantly circling and waiting for their opportunity. There are three defenders descending on Maria (of course), and she glances over her shoulder towards Nat, knowing full well she only has seconds to take a pass so she can worm her way through the defense. Otherwise, she'd have to pass to Lance, losing precious seconds on the attack.

But Nat shoots straight and true. Maria can tell exactly where the puck's going to end up and puts on the speed to take her past the two defenders coming in on her right. She maneuvers deftly around the defender on her left, dangles the puck and then it's just her against the Sabres' goalie. Forehand, backhand, there's no time for anything fancy, but then she's practically on top of him and just barely nudges the puck between his legs.

 _Goal_. Maria is laughing as Lance all but smothers her with a hug, but it's Nat she's waiting for as the rest of the team skates out to the ice to celebrate. "Nice pass," she remarks as they head over to give Mike his customary post-win helmet tap. "How did you know I'd be able to get it?"

Nat just shrugs. "It was the right time."

Maria lets it go because how many times has she been asked how she knows where the puck's going to go, or how she knows where the next patch of open ice is going to be? Some things you just have to write off as hockey sense.

The next morning, hardly anyone is awake and sensible as the team trudges out for the stupidly early flight out to Colorado. Everyone, that is, except Nat, who looks suspiciously bright and chipper as she sips her tea (how she managed to brew a sufficient cup in the hotel is beyond Maria). "You're planning something," Maria croaks, still blinking sleep out of her eyes as they head up the steps. She's woken up early for most of her life out of necessity, but she'll never be a morning person.

"Shirts," is the mysterious response. She drags Maria to the back of the plane, although she makes sure to stick Maria in the pair of seats in front of her. Trip and Lance tend to get sullen if she sits with Nat too often, liney traditions being what they are.

Maria doesn't get it until Bobby comes to the back, strips off his suit jacket and shirt, hangs them up, and heads back to his seat in just his undershirt. At least half of the guys do the same thing because they don't like creasing their clothing on longer flights. Nat is a _genius._

Several shirts disappear while they're in the air, spirited away into Nat's luggage and even Maria's laptop bag when Trip takes a bathroom break. It results in a group of bewildered hockey players being yelled at by Coach, and being forced to disembark looking like escapees from a bad photoshoot. Or the set of _Miami Vice_.

Maria takes a discreet photo and sends it off to Darcy, who responds with a series of exclamation points and heart-eyes emojis. The photo ends up on social media and nearly breaks the hockey side of Twitter.

* * *

With Nat, the Knights' defensive core is that much stronger and they advance much farther than anyone ever anticipated in the playoffs. But once again, the Mammoths prove to be their undoing and send them packing in a heartbreaking Game Six in the Eastern Conference Finals.

The mood is quiet and sullen as everyone trudges onto the plane for the flight back to New York. Maria moves past Lance and Trip, who look at her with understanding eyes, as she settles in beside Mike. "I'm not good company right now, Maria," he mutters, turning to face the window.

"I'm not looking for good company." She opens her Kindle, scanning the words but not truly processing them. She bides her time through taxiing and takeoff, until he finally turns away from the window and sags into his seat, rubbing his eyes with his knuckles. She can't help but smile because Ace does the exact same thing when he's feeling tired. "You were spectacular this series, you know."

He snorts and the sound is harsh and bitter in the silence of the plane. "How do you figure?"

"Your save percentage was better this series than in the previous two."

Normally, he's amused when she starts bringing up hard stats in conversations, but he's not having it this time. "And yet we still lost."

She shakes her head, dropping her Kindle back into her bag and turning so that she can look at him straight on. "That's on us, not on you. We couldn't make the scoring chances we needed to back you up." That is going to haunt her all summer long, all of those missed chances, all the times the Mammoths' D managed to get the best of them in front of the net.

Mike glances at her out of the corner of his eye and shakes his head. "I know what you're trying to do and it's not going to work."

"Do you?" She reaches into her bag and pulls out two cans of beer that she begged from the flight attendant as she boarded. They're not the Brooklyn microbrews they enjoy every so often, but they'll do for now. She hands one over to him, eyebrow raised in challenge.

Mike has always made a point to be there for her after a bad game. She tries to do the same for him, especially now after such a tough playoffs run. There's no denying how well he's played, shutting out the Flyers in round one and taking the series against the Capitals to five games in round two. She absolutely stands by what she said. Mike deserved better. Mike deserved tonight's win and they weren't able to deliver.

He scans her face, trying to detect any bullshit. Finally, his head drops forward and he chuckles. It's more self-deprecating than anything else, but she'll take it. "You're my rookie, you shouldn't be doing the coddling."

"Am I?" She's never been accused of coddling in her life and it's certainly not going to start now. What she's telling Mike is the truth – nothing more, nothing less.

And because Mike is Mike, he gets it. "No, no you're not." He pops the can open, takes a long sip, then makes a horrified face. "This is _terrible_."

"Snob," she says affectionately, slumping down until her shoulder is pressing against his. They drink in companionable silence. When she looks up, Steve is watching from a few seats down. He nods once and she lifts her beer can in salute.

All in a day's work.

The off-season brings Maria's very first invitation to Olympic training camp. The roster reads like a who's who of the CWHL, including veteran right-winger and team captain, Izzy Hartley. Maria tries very hard to keep calm around the older woman, but her mind strays to the possibilities of them playing on the same line and it's all a bit much to take in. Add to that Jean Grey, Alison Blaire, Nico Minoru, and a few others, and Maria's feeling slightly out of her depth. She wants to fit in and not be the odd one out as the sole NHLer.

At least Akela is there, muttering obscenities under her breath as they do farmer's walks and sled drags during strength and conditioning, cracking off-color jokes over meal breaks, and generally bellowing at Maria whenever they're playing. It's like being in college all over again.

She settles into the routine of camp, savoring the feeling of playing with the best women in the sport and knowing they definitely have a chance to beat Canada and get that gold medal back.

After all, _Peggy Carter's_ their coach.

 _Tweet._ Coach Carter drops the whistle from between her teeth and gestures vaguely. "Come on ladies, hustle!" Her voice carries, loud and strong, over the concrete court. "I want to see good footwork out there, I don't care if this is street hockey! Carter, stop hanging off your net!"

Sharon Carter (who the Knights have just drafted out of Boston University) drops her elbows from the net and settles, rather sheepishly, into the correct stance as play resumes. Maria is beaming as she scrambles down the court. She hasn't played street hockey since her Shattuck days and there's something about being able to run and be completely unfettered – no pads, just a stick, gloves, and the ball. She follows the play exactly as Coach wanted it, drawing the D to her and throwing a no-look pass over her right shoulder to where Izzy is waiting by the boards.

The ball flies into the back of the net and Jean swears because the angle of that shot was _insane_. The cheers seem louder than normal and Izzy snorts, nodding towards the arena seats as their line trots off for a shift change. "Looks like we've picked up an audience," she notes, wiping the sweat out of her eyes.

The US men's team is scattered on the bleachers, dressed in matching gear and watching the scrimmage with avid eyes. Maria waves to Steve, Sam, Bucky, and Clint and isn't in the least bit surprised when they come over to sit behind her. "Don't you guys have better things to do?" she inquires, twisting around in her seat.

"We have the court once you're finished," Steve explains, gesturing over to the pile of street hockey gear over by the door. "Thought it would be nice to watch and see how you guys are doing."

"Sure you're not here just to fangirl over our coach?" she remarks slyly, laughing as he chokes on his Gatorade. Steve had been nearly beside himself when news broke that Peggy Carter would be coaching the women's side, and that the men and women's teams would be sharing space at Lake Placid this year. "Have you asked for her autograph yet?"

"He's working up to it," Bucky interrupts, slinging an arm around Steve's shoulders before he can respond. "So, missing Nat yet?"

And really, he only has himself to blame for that set-up. "I'm pretty sure you're missing her more than I am." Maria smirks as Sam hoots loudly and reaches around Steve to smack Bucky on the back of the head. Bucky's crush on Nat is probably visible from space. He's very vocal in his appreciation of her skill, and it's pretty endearing because it seems like he gets literal hearts in his eyes when he's watching her during games or practice.

Bucky just beams, thus proving her point. "More than Barton, that's for sure."

Clint just shoves Bucky, who crashes into Steve, who pitches forward into Maria. By the time they get themselves sorted out (with Steve apologizing profusely), they've drawn the attention of the entire bench. "Problem, Hill?" Coach Carter inquires mildly.

Maria flushes and wishes she could knock Clint and Bucky's heads together. "You guys are going to get me in trouble," she grumbles, standing up for a line change. "I'll see you later."

"Teammates checking up on you?" Izzy asks they head back onto the court.

"Something like that." It's strange not playing with them. She's grateful she doesn't have to deal with setting aside rivalries the way the men do. She can't even imagine how Steve is managing being on a team with Clark Kent. It doesn't matter the two of them are cut from the same cloth – Kent is a Mammoth and Steve is a Knight, and that's that. Maria knows this will change and she'll end up playing against Nat, at least, but for now It's not exactly something she has to worry about.

"You're not screwing Rogers, are you?"

Not _that_ question again. Maria scowls. "No."

"I keep telling her she needs to get it," Akela grumbles from behind them.

"Akela's right," Izzy drawls, grinning wickedly. "You should. For America."

Maria just barely manages to keep from tripping over her own feet. She swears at Izzy and Akela, both of whom just run off cackling.

Honestly. Teammates (no matter what the team) are the _worst_.

* * *

The season starts off with a bang. Maria feels like this year, the Knights have much to prove. And by extension, so does she.

Sometimes Maria feels as though all she has is this deep-seated drive to succeed and be the very best at what she does. She doesn't think twice about pushing herself to the absolute limit and then beyond, coming in to practice early and leaving long after everyone else has gone, oftentimes running drills on her own. Her post-loss routine of throwing herself on an exercise bike continues because if she wasn't strong enough for this game, she'll damn well be strong enough for the next. Maria's not the type of person who makes the same mistake twice.

She has no qualms about holding her teammates to the same standard. She doesn't expect to see them on the exercise bikes with her but she absolutely demands the very best from them. It's the reason why she shouts them down during games and why she pulls teammates aside during practice, telling them _exactly_ how they can improve on the forecheck or how to pull off that 5-on-3. It might seem pushy or overbearing, and she's left more than one teammate dazed with a brain stuffed full of hockey advice, but Maria doesn't know how to be anything other than driven.

It's why she doesn't mind the moniker of the Ice Bitch, because one way or another, the Ice Bitch gets results.

In the home opener against the Senators, the Knights are shorthanded on the penalty kill but Maria still manages to make the other side look dumb by seizing the puck and tearing up the ice all by herself. She's one-on-one with the goalie and makes the quick decision to send the puck high over his blocker. The shot is blocked, of course, but she has just enough space to scoop up her rebound and send it skittering past his left skate for the goal.

"Are you kidding me?" Trip bellows. Maria's still skating when he catches up to her for the celly, and he sends the two of them spinning like they're ice dancing. "Shorthanded _?_ Your own rebound?"

Lance plants a giant, smacking kiss on her helmet. "You overachiever."

"Gunning for the Rocket Richard already?" Clint teases, bumping his glove against her shoulder as they skate off.

She scoffs and doesn't even bother to respond. It's not as though she would mind winning an award like the Rocket Richard or the Art Ross. It would be an honor as well as a personal best. But when it comes down to trophies, there's only one that counts and that's the one Maria wants.

Every team wants to win the Stanley Cup, of course. Players long for it, even when they know their chances are slim to none. For the Knights, the drought has been long and disheartening, but this year the dream no longer seems unattainable. In fact, as their standing rises with each subsequent game, the team begins to realize the championship could be _theirs_. The other teams realize it too and do anything they can to prevent it. It turns out they don't like it when a sure win against the Knights is no longer a sure thing.

"Why does this always happen when we play the Serpents?" The Knights just barely squeaked by with the win, no thanks to some of her more hot-headed teammates. "Do we even rack up the same number of penalty minutes against our _actual_ rivals?"

Lance scowls. He's still sporting a split lip from a fight with Rollins. "We don't like them. We don't like any guy on that team."

"Yeah, it's a good thing we got Wilson and Barton from them when we did," Trip adds. Sam and Clint just shrug. They never seem to take it personally when people trash their former team, but then, Clint has never had a good thing to say about the organization as a whole.

Maria huffs and turns her attention to Nat. "And you. What have I said about fighting?"

Nat rolls her eyes. "Don't do it, I know. But I make special exception for Rumlow." She purposefully thickens her accent the way she does when she's playing dumb to the media. It drives Christine _insane_.

"No, not if it means you're out for a game misconduct!" She wonders why she has to go through this with the team every single year. Trip once said it was because they loved her and she smacked him upside the head because she can take idiocy and chirping, but she can't take mushiness.

"Wouldn't you do the same for me?" Nat asks shrewdly and that question is entirely unfair.

"Of course I would," Maria snaps, exasperated. "But I don't fight that way."

Nat nods, satisfied. "And I don't fight your way. Get used to it."

This season marks the culmination of everything Pepper's worked towards since inheriting the Knights. The team climbs to the top of the Metropolitan division and holds steady throughout the second half of the season despite every other team's attempt to rip the spot away. Games develop an almost vicious edge as the uphill battle for the Stanley Cup begins.

Throughout the whole thing, Maria makes sure to keep tabs on Laurel Lance, Selina Kyle, and Barbara Gordon. She wonders why the hockey gods chose to put them on the Mammoths and the Blades, but the fact of the matter is they were _drafted_. Both Laurel and Selina are already playing for their respective teams, whilst Barbara is taking the time to develop in the AHL much like Sharon is for the Knights.

All of the women are on a group chat, where Maria's implemented a strict no-chirping policy. It's so important that they have a safe space where they can vent and where they know someone will understand what they're going through, regardless of the team on the front of their jersey.

With hockey schedules being what they are, Selina is the first one they meet in person. The Blades are in New York late in the season and after the game (a loss for the Blades), she walks out of the visitor locker room to find Maria and Nat waiting and smiles wryly. "I don't know whether I should shake your hands or punch you," she remarks, letting the door swing shut behind her. Selina Kyle is small, like Nat, but not nearly as muscular. But she's wily and absolutely lethal on a patch of open ice.

Nat shrugs. "You don't have to like us." She and Maria had discussed this the night of the draft. "But respect and trust? Yes."

Selina considers her words carefully. "I can do that."

Maria jerks her chin over her shoulder towards the locker room as the three of them walk away. "How's your team? Are they treating you all right?" Despite the rivalry, insults and chirping from the Blades have only been generic. Their competitiveness revolves around an elevated style of play. Maria's always gotten the sense that they go after her because of how she is as a player, rather than because of her sex.

"Oh, they're terrified of me," Selina replies, her expression full of good-natured mischief. "Babs can be their golden girl but I will keep them on their toes."

"They need that," Nat remarks.

"That they do," Selina agrees. "Now, where are you taking me and are there drinks?"

Steve falls into line next to Maria the next morning at optional skate. For Maria, unless the circumstances are dire, optional skate is never _optional._ She's kind of regretting that policy now. "I heard you guys took Selina Kyle out last night."

"Yep."

He squints at her. "Are you hungover?"

"If you laugh I'll kill you," she threatens, squinting out over the ice and wishing for sunglasses. "I blame Nat and vodka. And Selina has a titanium liver."

Steve raises his hands. He's not laughing, but his lips are twitching and Maria absolutely counts it as laughing. She'll kill him later, when she's not concentrating so much on putting one skate in front of the other. "So, what's it like meeting the first of your legacy?"

"Legacy? That's a bit premature, don't you think?"

"They're the first crop of female players outside the team, aren't they?"

"And people can still decide this was a fun experiment and there's no need to repeat it." If anything, the pressure to produce and be better is even worse. She doesn't even want to think about what will happen if they don't win the Stanley Cup this year. "I'll breathe easier when the next generation is out and playing on the ice."

He sighs. "A little optimism never goes amiss, Hill."

Optimism has never been her thing, and she says so. "You're the one bringing up legacies, Rogers." She has every right to be twitchy.

"All right, fine," he concedes, then pivots around so he's skating backwards in front of her. There's no avoiding the full force of him in Captain Mode. Even Maria's not entirely immune. Steve Rogers can be incredibly compelling when he wants to. "But you should look at what you've accomplished so far and be proud of yourself, Hill. We all are."

His honesty throws her through a loop, but before she can say anything he turns and lopes off after Remy and Scott. Maria skates back to the box, in desperate need of processing time and rehydration.

"Rough morning?" Carol's standing in the box, arms crossed and grinning knowingly. "What was that, a pep talk?"

Maria chugs back a good half of the bottle before setting it down. "When have I ever needed a pep talk?" she asks, wiping the back of her mouth.

"Probably never." She cocks an eyebrow. "Why are you still standing here? Skate!"

She would flip her off, but that would mean removing her gloves. "Slave driver," she grumbles, ignoring Carol's laughter as it drifts out behind her.

Time to get back to work.

* * *

In the end, it always comes down to the Mammoths. Their rivalry has always been strong, even when the Knights were losing. There's simply something about a Knights/Mammoths game that electrifies the atmosphere and brings the teams' play to another level.

But this year, the Knights aren't going down without a fight. This is the year when all the rebuilding, all the trades and changes and acquisitions pay off.

Game One of the Eastern Conference Finals goes to the Mammoths, while the Knights take games Two and Three, only to blow their lead for the next two, leaving them one game away from elimination once more.

To lose now would be unacceptable, a devastating repeat of their exit in last year's playoffs.

She doesn't care how well they played in Game Five and that Steve had a hat trick. All that matters is they _lost_ , and they cannot afford to do so again. Maria stalks into the locker room ahead of everyone else and plants herself dead center, clutching her stick with a death grip. The rest of the team flows around her, giving her a wide berth as they head to their stalls.

Thor and Steve are the last ones in. Thor is the first to meet her burning gaze without flinching. He nods once in understanding and clasps her briefly on the shoulder before heading to his stall. Thor's better at giving speeches before games, not after them. Steve stops in the doorway and there's something of a stand-off. Maria tilts her head and glares. _No party line but mine, Rogers._ She's going to do whatever she has to do, regardless of what he thinks.

He surprises her – but then again, that's what Steve Rogers _does_ and it shouldn't shock her any longer but somehow it continues to happen, again and again. He mirrors her movement, tilting his head the tiniest bit to the side. _Okay, Hill. Your call._

That's all she needs. _Crack._ Everyone jumps when she takes her stick and smashes it against one of the equipment boxes. The feeling is good, but not enough. Maria can still feel the deep, shimmering pulse of fury and frustration in her blood, threatening to burst out of her skin. They cannot come this far again just to fail. This is not who they are. This is not what they are meant to be and she doesn't know how she's going to make them see it but by god, she _will_. She tosses the splintered fragments aside and sucks in a breath-

Steve pushes away from the wall and hands her his stick before backing away. He doesn't break eye contact once.

Maria's hands flex on the stick and it feels as though everyone in the room is holding their breath.

 _Snap._ Even she is mildly impressed when Steve's stick breaks apart. She wouldn't have been able to do this at the beginning of the season when he was summer strong and the flex number was astronomically high. She probably shouldn't have been capable of it now, not when everyone's struggling to keep their weight and their strength up. Adrenaline and determination are funny things.

She drops the remnants of the stick and returns to her stall. Trip's arm snakes around her shoulders and Lance's hand drops to her knee. There's a world of support in those wordless gestures and she closes her eyes gratefully.

Her ears are still buzzing, so she doesn't hear all of Steve's ensuing speech until the end: "Hills always says we should be better." Her head pops up and Steve is looking at her with that wry little half-grin that never fails to confuse her. "And we are, so remember that. This is _our_ time. _Our_ series. _Our_ win."

After that, the series is _theirs_.

Maria stops in the handshake line and offers her hand to Laurel Lance. The blonde looks at her with red-rimmed eyes and Maria honestly wouldn't blame her if she ignored the gesture altogether. But Laurel takes her hand and pulls her into a hug. "You're fucking amazing, Hills," she mumbles, barely audible over the screams of a still-celebrating New York crowd. "I'm still going to kick your ass next year."

She laughs and squeezes her tightly, not caring that they're probably holding up the line and that the media will call them sobby and girly. "You can try."

The Stanley Cup Finals are the strangest moment of her life, and that is saying something, as someone who's reached two Frozen Fours and a number of championships at Worlds. But the pressure then is nothing compared to the pressure now.

Maria comes _alive._ A few years ago, no one believed the Knights would have made it this far, let alone with her (and Nat and Coach and Maya and Pepper and the other women). And even now there are still those who doubt, those who say the Wasps are the better team. Never mind that it's the Knights who have the President's Trophy and the highest number of single accolades in the NHL (Maria has already claimed the Rocket Richard, Nat is up for the Norris, Mike is nominated for the Vezina for the tenth time, etc.). This time, the odds are in their favor and Steve is right.

It's _their_ time.

The Knights come out in Game One like a bull charging out of the gate. Coach keeps them in their regular lines and it works just fine, with Thor, Trip, and Sam coming through to give them the winning goals. That night, Maria grins down at her skates as she unlaces them and calls, "Trip, give me a beat!" Trip's answering smile could power the entire arena and he all but bounces across the locker room to put on his song of the moment. She doesn't even protest when he tugs her to her feet and forces her to do some absurd two-step, pads and all.

In Game Two, the Wasps sort themselves out quickly and somehow manage to shut Steve and Maria's lines down. The Wasps' third and fourth lines are just that tiny bit scrappier and more physical than the Knights', and it makes the difference. The Knights fly back to New York determined to take it back.

Coach adjusts by changing things up and swapping all of her centers. When Steve centers Trip and Lance, his physical style and crazy reach have a tendency to stretch their game out across the ice, affording them shots and angles they never consider otherwise. It's the opposite when Maria's with Sam and Bucky: she focuses their play in front of the net, always waiting for an opportunity to slip the puck in. Scott and Bobby do the similar things when they're switched as well, and it works. The Wasps can't seem to find an answer and the Knights take Game Three.

Sam presents her with the shield that night and though she's won it a few times since joining the team, there's something special about holding the painted, hand-carved wooden shield in all its patriotic glory. It's a symbol of the work put into the game, the blood, sweat and tears that are paid back a hundredfold when they light it up.

She runs her fingers over one of the stars and smiles to herself.

Two days later, Maria's voice is hoarse from screaming because the Wasps bounce back again and it's one of those games where nothing seems to go right. No one's passes are connecting, there are a few bad bounces, and the Knights narrowly escape a few all-out brawls because mouths are running on both sides. It doesn't help when the home crowd is out for blood as well. She's half tempted to pull a Sarah Rogers and grab a few guys by the ears.

"You _cannot_ listen to them!" She's shouting down the entire d-corps, including Mike, who had nearly gotten into it with the Wasps' goalie. _Mike_ , who rarely even drops his head when a shot makes it past, let alone hits the goal posts.

Mike glowers. "They said-"

"When has anything they said ever mattered?" She looks at the rest of the d-men one by one, all of who know better than to avoid her gaze. "When have we ever cared?"

Nat is the sole exception, standing to Maria's right. "This cannot be our weakness," she states firmly. "Do not let them use us against you."

Sometimes the guys forget they're playing with women. The rest of the world never forgets, and that's something they're going to have to come to terms with, because Maria, Nat, and the other women will certainly never have that luxury. They can only work hard now and hope that someday, future female players _will_.

"Get your goddamn heads in the game." Those words are for the entire team, because the rest of the forwards have been terrible about making scoring chances.

When they lose Game Four, Coach comes back with her nuclear option: Bucky as left wing, Steve as right wing, and Maria as center. Sam jumps down to Maria's place to center the second line. They've only begun practicing this line combination this season, and have had yet to trot it out during a game.

Coach is nuts. She's also _brilliant_. Maria has played as Steve's winger before and it's worked fine, but when Maria centers Steve it becomes the perfect blend of cerebral play and physicality. Bucky and Steve give her the space she needs to work, wearing the other side's D down by playing behind the net and allowing Maria the time to get everyone exactly where she wants them.

They win Game Five when Steve carries the puck behind the net. He slings a no-look pass over his right shoulder past a trailing d-man and right to Maria. Her hands are in the air before the goalie realizes the puck went past him.

 _One more,_ Maria thinks dizzily as they fly back to New York. One more win and they're champions.

The night before the final game, Pepper holds one more Ladies' Night. The women gather on the roof and stare out over the city, taking in the sights and sounds and simply enjoying each other's company. There is no junk food or alcohol tonight, just healthy, filling food, tea, and Gatorade. They'll be drowning in champagne tomorrow, god willing.

After a while, Pepper clears her throat. "No matter what happens tomorrow, I want you to know that I am so very proud of all of you and everything we have been able to accomplish." Her voice wobbles the tiniest bit. "They said it couldn't be done and we've proved them wrong. In my mind, we've already won."

There really isn't anything else to add. Christine is the first to raise her mug in a silent toast, and the rest follow suit. Then, one by one, they all drift inside to sleep.

Maria lays awake for a time, listening to Darcy's soft snores and patiently batting away Nat's flailing limbs. In the end, she decides that Pepper is right. They have already won. They just need to play like it tomorrow.

Steve must be psychic, because the following day all he does is stand in the center of the locker room, look each player in the eye, and say, "That's our Cup, team. Time to claim it."

At first, it seems like the Wasps have figured out their way around Coach May's nuclear option. Both the first and second periods remain scoreless.

Rather than succumbing to the pressure, Maria _thrives_. For her, each shift is one shift closer to the end, and each play is one play closer to being the one that matters, the one that brings them the Cup. Slowly, ever so slowly, their D rallies, shutting the other side down.

And finally, they _explode_. First, Johnny gets a breakaway. He speeds ahead of everyone and, through some feat of balance, manages to remain upright despite getting a defenseman's stick stuck in his skate. He does something absolutely _filthy_ with his stick and the puck sails into the back of the net. Only seconds later, Clint bats the puck out of the air when the Wasps try to chuck it down the ice on a shift change. His slap shot is, as always, pitch perfect.

The Wasps rally for their own goal off a dirty shot from the crease, but the Knights have the momentum and there's no stopping them. It's no surprise that the Wasps pull their goalie in the last minute of the game in a desperate attempt to equalize, and Coach only has to look at Maria and Steve to convey the play.

With three defensemen on the ice – Thor, Mack, and Nat – the Knights aren't really looking to score. They just need to wind down the final seconds of play. As the seconds tick down and the home crowd becomes louder and louder, they are almost content to leave it that way.

But then Thor blocks a shot on Mike and ferries it to Nat. Nat flips the puck up to Steve, who is already barreling up the ice. Maria's even further, and she's the one he passes to rather than making the shot himself. The net is wide open.

They've won.

Maria barely takes a step before Steve is there, lifting her off her skates and swinging her around. Nat is not far behind, jumping on Maria's back and screaming in some incomprehensible mix of English and Russian. Then they all just go down in a pile as the rest of the team comes out and Maria swears she's gone deaf because a bomb must have gone off in Madison Square Garden. But no, it's just the fans, their loyal fans, the ones who've been waiting for years for their team to bring Lord Stanley home.

Her name is called for the Conn Smythe, and it takes Nat's hands on her shoulders to get her moving. Maria knew her name was being passed around as a favorite to win but she never believed the league would actually name her the tournament MVP.

She can't help but feel vindicated as she lifts the Conn Smythe up, listening as the crowd's boos for the commissioner (everyone hates Alexander Pierce, that's just how it is) turn to cheers. It feels amazing, better than she ever could have dreamed, but at the end of the day she only has eyes for one trophy.

When Steve finally, finally skates over with the Cup, Maria automatically moves aside to let Thor go first because Thor's been there from the beginning of the rebuild and he's just as much a leader as Steve. But Thor steps out of the way, beaming, and like Nat, shoves Maria forward. There's no time to protest because Steve is there and her hands automatically go up to receive the Cup. The weight of the Cup is solid and reassuring as she lifts it over her head.

This is it, she realizes. From a dream deferred to a dream realized. The league hadn't even wanted her at first but here she is, the first woman to play in the NHL, Conn Smythe winner and Stanley Cup Champion.

Victory is sweet.

Maria hands the Cup to Thorand the rest of the night gets a little blurry from there on out. She and Mike spend an embarrassingly long time hugging, overwhelmed by the moment. Trip and Lance are both crying as they converge on her, and Trip's voice is all but gone. The three of them nearly tumble to the ice but she doesn't care because she loves the two goofs, she really does. And Nat – they don't cry, but they do skate around the rink with their arms slung around one another, laughing and waving at the fans (especially the girls). She loses count of the number of times she's lifted off her skates and spun around, and while she'd normally never allow that kind of behavior, she can make an allowance just once.

Later, much later, after interviews and champagne and too many rounds of "We Are the Champions," Steve catches her in one of the empty tunnels, taking advantage of the silence and stillness and simply savoring the moment.

"Hill?" The touch of his fingers on her hand is as much as question as her name, feather light and soft. When she opens her eyes, Steve is smiling at her and she can see everything because Steve has always been an open book. Joy, admiration, respect – she's seen them all before, even seen them aimed her way.

Unlike those times, this is so very different. Those eyes, those damn eyes of his are bright with awareness and heat and _want_ and those are things she's never seen before. The force of it is so strong it saps the breath from her lungs and her knees go weak.

Whatever she's feeling must echo across her face because he inhales sharply and moves closer. His hands come up to cup her jaw so very gently, resting his forehead against hers. "Maria." There's a world of emotions tangled in those syllables and that alone frightens her more than anything else.

One of her hands comes up, pressing dead center on his chest. His heart beats steadily beneath her palm and she could laugh because that's _Steve_. Constant, infuriating, inspiring and honestly, she could just _kill_ him because she never asked for these feelings. Especially when he's her teammate, her friend, her _captain_ -

The denial is on the tip of her tongue as she looks up. Because she cares, she really does. He's had her back from the beginning and while they've had their differences and will continue to have them, he always has the best intentions. It's not a question of feelings because she _has_ them, has probably had them for a while (the Bantam tournament, the Kiss Cam), but-

Steve is still smiling. A little amused now, but resigned and also hopeful. The combination is dizzying. "It's your call, Maria. It's always been your call."

And there he goes, throwing her off balance _again_. Maria sighs and can feel her fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt. "Give me time." Though her immediate reaction is to run as fast as her legs can carry her, she also knows this isn't something she _should_ run from.

She doesn't even know if she really _wants_ to run. And that alone is reason enough to stick it out, no matter what happens.

He exhales, and one of his hands drifts down her neck, over her shoulder and down her free arm, loosely tangling their fingers together. "You got it."

Nothing can dampen her spirits, not even Wade and John spraying her in the face with champagne when she returns to the locker room. She just grabs the bottle and takes a good, healthy swig, much to everyone's delight.

It feels good to win.

* * *

 _One year later – the All-Star Game_

"You must be pretty happy after the draft last night, Maria," says Ben Urich. His stuff is usually way above the sports beat, let alone something as campy as the All-Star Game, so Maria figures Christine must have called in a favor. Of course, it might also have to do with the fact that the game is in New York and Maria's one of the captains. "Did you plan on having all the women on your team from the start?"

"Absolutely. I have Nat, of course, and the others are in our conference, but I thought this would be a good opportunity to see what we could do together." She grins. "I can't wait for Sharon to come up, and for another team to draft a female defenseman. Then we'll have a full shift."

Urich nods. "There are plenty of young women in attendance this weekend. What does it mean to you to see them here and to know they're watching you and the other women play?"

"It means everything. I want those girls to see us out there and to know that playing on a professional level is possible. They have more options now than ever before – CWHL, NWHL, NHL. These girls coming up can pick whatever they want and that's exactly how it should be." She'd spent most of yesterday on the convention center floor, talking to fans and taking pictures and signing autographs until her Sharpies went dry. She loved every minute of it.

"You were the first. Do you feel there's a certain amount of pressure in knowing this is your legacy?"

Her grin turns wry and she suppresses the urge to look down the line where Steve is chatting to the guys from the NHL Network. "Legacy sounds self-aggrandizing, don't you think? I was lucky enough to be the kind of person Pepper and Coach May were looking for. All I wanted to do was play hockey and show everyone that women could do well."

"And would you say you've accomplished that?"

She holds up her hand and watches the lights catch her Stanley Cup ring. "I'd say so."

His eyes glint with amusement. "You came, you played, you conquered."

"Exactly."

* * *

 **Please review!**

This story wouldn't have been possible without so many people. Poptate, my indomitable beta, Kavi Leighanna, for always pushing me for more hockeyverse, and InitialA and blackglass for talking through so many aspects of this universe.

The trophies mentioned are: the President's Trophy (awarded to the club finishing the regular season with the best overall record based on points), the Prince of Wales (Eastern Conference playoff champion), the Rocket Richard (top goal scorer), the Art Ross (player with the most number of points), the Norris (best defenseman), the Vezina (best goaltender), and the Conn Smythe (playoffs MVP). Maya would definitely win the Best GM award, too.

Never fear, this isn't the end of this series. The next part will be a day-in-the-life series following around various members of the staff and team. There will also be more Captain Hill, because while it's a big part of Maria's story, it's not all of it.

As always, I'm available on my tumblr (see profile).


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